Grand Line City Hearts
by maggiepiece
Summary: AU, KiddXLaw, slash. Kidd, a notorious dealer in Grand Line City, comes across Law, a prostitue. Kidd hates hookers, but he still feels drawn to the skinny man. But he doens't know that Law isn't really what he thinks he is - M for a good reason.
1. Prologue Part One

Rating: **R-17**

Warning: this story contains rough gay sex, threesomes, drug abuse, violence, character death (not the main characters, don't worry), and really bad language

Disclaimer: ain't mine

A/N: I basically wrote the whole prologue while I was listening to _Eminem - Shake that ass_ on repeat. Yeah. That was my inspiration, so be warned! I also didn't go into too much detail for the prologue, because we're all waiting for the main story XD

* * *

Prologue Part One_  
_

_Dirty Youth_

Verko(r)kste Jugend

* * *

_Eight years ago:_

It must've been around three in the morning when he and Killer finally went over to Wire's. Kidd was fucking tired, but at the same time he was fucking drunk, but the lines he took together with that nasty chick in that nasty bathroom in some shitty club downtown were keeping him awake. After he had fucked that chick senseless in one of the stalls he left her slumped over the toilet, puking. _That bitch shouldn't have wanted to drink his juice, not if she couldn't take his whole length down her throat. Pathetic._

He had left the bathroom and searched for Killer, but he couldn't make out his mass of blonde hair in the mass of shitfaced people dancing and drinking and doing whatever in the club. The music had turned shitty and he wanted a smoke, but his pack was empty.

Someone just lit up a cig next to him and he simply snatched the cig from the surprised man, but when the man started yelling he shrugged and only grinned. Then man quickly shut up. He knew that his feral grin had that kind of effect on people.

He grabbed the man's drink too and went through the sweating and smelling crowd to the door, if Killer wasn't inside the club, he was for sure outside, probably trying to sell their last coke in the dark alleys next to the club. He smirked again and congratulated his fucked up brain to that kind of logic thinking.

He was fucking blitzed.

Oh shit, he liked that song the DJ had just put on, fuck, the coke did magic to his taste of music, fuck, the beat was going through his veins of his nineteen year old body, fuck, the beat, he danced, and then there was this chick, or was it a dude? Didn't matter, he only registered long hair and an ass grinding on his crotch. Nice. He felt his cock coming back to life, but then the music changed and he remembered that he wanted to find Killer.

He shoved that dude (or chick) of him and made his way back over to the doors.

He found Killer in a dark alley, selling some stuff to some dude, while his cock was getting sucked by another guy, down on his knees in front of Killer.

"Oi Killer, come on, let's go!" he yelled.

The man who was just buying drugs jumped startled and froze when he saw who had interrupted their deal.

Kidd smirked. He fucking loved scaring people to death only with his feral smile and his cold but blazing eyes. The man was shitting himself right now.

Killer seemed unfazed, face unreadable, since it was partly covered by his trademark mask. He just grabbed the hair of the man giving him head and withdrew his mouth with a disgustingly wet sound. Killer tucked his half hard cock back in his pants and got out a ten dollar note. He gave it the rather young looking man and quickly finished the exchange of drugs for money with the other, rather scared looking man.

The men both shot Kidd a last glare, than they hurriedly left the dark alley.

Killer snarled at him for a greeting: "You gotta stop scaring the users away."

"He still bought his shit, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but only because his bro was busy sucking me off."

"I can't believe you paid that fucker for a bj."

"Felt compassionate."

"Fuck your compassion. Let's head over to Wire's, music turned shitty."

"Yeah, let's go."

When they arrived at Wire's shitty apartment in Sabondy, probably the most run down area in Grand Line City, Kidd was still bitching at Killer for paying the man that had sucked him off. Killer fucking knew that his whore of a mother had been a prostitute, so naturally he hated every kind of prostitution.

But Killer only shrugged and he was tempted to smash Killer's face in, fuck Killer, he wanted to see blood right now, fuck, he wanted a fight, a really bad fight-

But then before he could give in to his bloodlust Killer opened the unlocked door to Wire's apartment and he calmed somewhat down, enjoying the prospect of either some more booze or another line, maybe both.

When they entered the messy apartment they were immediately greeted by Hawkins and Bonney, some of his closer buddies, both more or less shitfaced. But he didn't see Wire around.

"Where's Wire?" he grunted.

"He's out with Bege and Drake-" Hawkins murmured while shuffling his cards. He nodded and went over to Wire's small kitchen, grabbing a plastic cup and filling it with whatever liquor was standing around on the counter. He went back in the living room and noticed that Killer was seated next to Bonney, a busty bitch with her hair dyed in an obnoxious shade of pink. Killer was talking to her, but Bonney seemed more occupied with Hawkins, who was laying out his cards on the couch table. Hawkins had this weird quirk where he would snort his coke only from his cards and from nothing else.

Hawkins followed his stare: "You up for a line?"

"Yeah."

He went back to the kitchen and grabbed a straw that he cut in half with the knife he was always carrying around in his leather jacket. He came back to the living room and gave Hawkins his end of the straw. He and Hawkins were pretty tight, but that was just how it was if you had nothing left in your life than your friends, they automatically became a little like your family. Yeah, but fuck this, _family_ was probably the wrong word. The word _family_ indicated closeness, trust and love. And fuck this shit, he, Killer, Hawkins, Bege, Drake, Wire, Bonney, Urogue and Apoo, they were just way to fucked up to function as some kind of alternate family.

But fuck this shit. He wanted to do some lines with Hawkins right now.

Hawkins shuffled a card over to him, the ace of hearts, with three lines on it. He smirked. Hawkins knew him way too good. He had said he only wanted _one_ line, but come on, one or three, what was the difference?

Hawkins had two lines on his card, and even Bonney was down.

He took a gulp of the liquor in his cup, then he sniffed his three lines.

Ah, fuck.

He felt how his brain shredded itself and then pieced itself back together in a completely different set up. Fuck yeah. He looked up and met Bonney's stare. But he didn't look her in the eyes for long, but instead ogled her overly huge breasts. Fuck, he was down to fuck again.

He motioned Bonney to come over to him. When she was right in his face he grabbed her head and bent it so she was looking up to him. He stuck his tongue out and licked some stray coke from her nose.

"Wanna fuck?" He grunted.

Bonney shrugged and turned his head and nodded in Hawkins direction. "Gotta ask him."

Hawkins watched their interaction with amusement. Suddenly Kidd got an even better idea. "Hey Hawkie, why did I never fuck you?"

"You never asked." Hawkins smirked.

"You up for it?"

Hawkins grinned and got up from the couch. He went through the small hallway down to Wire's bedroom. Kidd got up from the floor was rubbing his hardening cock through his pants at the prospect of fucking Hawkins. He made it almost to Wire's bedroom, when he turned his head and asked with a knowing smirk: "Bonney, you're coming?"

Bonney grinned, delighted that she wasn't left out after all, and hurriedly made her way over to him. Before he turned around and entered the bedroom he met Killer's stare, who still sat on the couch. He looked somewhat pissed, but he only smirked at Killer's sour expression. If you wanna fuck, you just do it. You don't sit around and cuddle and kiss. You just fuck. And hey, Killer shouldn't complain, he had his cock shoved down the throat of that fucking hooker less than thirty minutes ago.

He gave Killer one last look and then closed the bedroom door behind him.

Hawkins and Bonney were getting rid of their clothes and touching each other, fumbling, grinding, making out. After he got rid of his clothes too, he joined them on the mattress.

Kidd got a hold of Bonney's hair and he forced her head down to his hard cock. She eagerly started sucking, but he wasn't paying her a lot of attention. His eyes were on Hawkins, who stroked his own cock at the scene in front of his eyes. After some rough strokes Hawkins seemed to have enough and positioned Bonney so she was on all fours and still sucking Kidd off. Hawkins grabbed her hips and thrust into her. Bonney let out a strangled moan that went straight through his cock, since he was hitting the back of her throat with his erection.

He decided that he had enough of Bonney's mouth and withdrew his saliva coated erection from her wet opening. Bonney whined and tried to grab his cock, but Hawkins was still fucking her pretty damn hard, so she lost her balance and crashed face first in the mattress. Hawkins didn't look like he cared of Bonney's lack of holding herself up; he just kept on fucking her with his eyebrows knitted together.

Kidd moved around Bonney and Hawkins, so that he was now looking at Hawkins back. He pushed Hawkins over so his back was slightly bend and then positioned himself at Hawkins ass. He spread Hawkins ass with his huge hands and then thrust inside, knowing that they wouldn't need lube, not if you just did two lines. But fuck coke, fuck everything, tight, hot, tight, hot-

FUCK!

Hawkins yelled something and even Bonney became louder, but he didn't care, he was focused on his own pleasure, Hawkins was fucking tight, fuck yeah-

He buried his hand in Hawkins long blonde hair and yanked his head back. Then he fucked the ever living shit out of Hawkins, while Hawkins absorbed his hard thrusts right into Bonney.

They all fucked in this position till he came in Hawkins ass, then they shuffled around, let Bonney do some suckin' so their cocks were hard again in no time. This time Bonney was in the middle, Hawkins was fucking her ass, while he fucked her pussy. Bonney was only a quivering mess in between their hard bodies, but Kidd's attention wasn't on her, it was on Hawkins, who was locking eyes with him.

This position made him horny as hell, feeling Hawkins' thrusts that close to his own fucking.

Fuck yeah, after they both came into Bonney, they didn't stop their fucking and went straight for a second round. Bonney seemed to have multiple orgasms or some shit, but he didn't care, as long as her tight, wet walls were contracting nicely around his cock.

When he was done he got up and took a really quick shower in the adjoining bathroom, then he pulled his pants and his shirt back on. He left a passed out Bonney and a rather pensive Hawkins who was laying out some cards on the bed behind and went back into the living room.

Now, after he had a nice fuck, he was ready to get really fucked up – it fucking sucked ass that after too much booze, weed and coke he wasn't able to get it up again. But then, compared what he experienced with his buddies, he seemed to tolerate the most shit running in his blood and still getting it up multiple times.

He noticed that Wire, Bege and Drake were in the living room, talking some shit and what the fuck, why were they so fucking hyped at four in the morning?

He greeted them and then he noticed the biggest possible shit in the nineteen years he had been living in the most fucked up city in the country.

"What the fuck is this shit?" He yelled.

There were several cartons standing around on the floor, and one carton was ripped open on the couch table.

He knew what coke looked like, fucking shit, he'd been using for years now. But he had never seen so much fucking blow in one room, and shit, if he assumed right there would be more in the other cartons. And it wasn't only blow.

He knew what H looked like, too. Motherfucking shit. That was a shitload of Heroin there too.

"What the fuck?" He yelled again.

"Calm down, bro." Wire said, leaning against the wall, sipping on a drink.

Killer had been sitting on the couch rather calm and he had observed the whole situation they had in the living room. But now he stood up and stood right next to him. He said: "Yeah, what the fuck is this?"

Drake smiled a toothy grin and explained: "You know, Bege wanted to buy a new gun from that dealer down at the harbor, and we got lucky."

"Yeah, we were leaving Portgas' shack, when we noticed some fucks lurking around." Bege continued explaining. "Naturally we quietly followed them, and guess what, we happened to stumble across a huge deal, and then Wire here started a distraction and we were able to snatch some."

Kidd looked at them incredulous. _They gotta be kidding him_.

"You havta be kidding me."

But even in his fucked up hazy mind Kidd knew that they weren't.

Bege was going on: "Yeah, you know how much this stuff is worth? That's easy over a million-"

"No shit." Kidd snarled. The room quieted down at his icy tone. "The harbor, you said? Yeah, are you guys FUCKING MENTAL? THAT'S NOT OUR FUCKING TERRITOY!"

"Who gives a shit? They won't notice-"

"I give a shit, you little fucktard! Of course they'll notice, you just said it, it's easily over a million-"

"Yeah, Kidd, come on, don't freak, it's over a million! We'll be fucking millionaires-"

"I don't give a shit. You should return those boxes where you found them and hope and beg that they won't find you. That's a number to big for us-"

"Come on, Kidd, you always said we should stop with the little shit, let's make some bigger money, let's get started in the real business-"

"Yeah, but I didn't mean that you should fucking steal a million worth in Heroin!"

"Who gives a shit? It sells as good as coke-"

"That's not the point, retard. You fucking got it from the harbor. That's Joker's fucking territory."

"Joker's territory?"

"Yeah, you little shit." Drake visibly paled at his words. There weren't many rules concerning Grand Line City's underground, but the most important one was probably: _You don't fuck with Joker_. You just don't.

Kidd groaned and tried to withstand the urge to beat the shit out of Drake and Bege. He fucking knew that it had been Drake's and Bege's idea, Wire probably just had gone along with it, like he went along with pretty much everything.

"We need to get rid of that shit, now. Joker will track that back to us, he knows about everyone who's selling out there, and if we suddenly sell H too, fuck, if we'd suddenly sell only a half an ounce more than we're supposed to, he'll know." Kidd said.

"Shit, I hope for the sake of all of us that you've been fucking careful when you stole it, fuck, if someone has seen you-" Killer started.

Kidd fucking knew how Bege and Drake worked. "We're fucked."

A snarling voice from the door said: "That you are."

Kidd's insides froze.

_Fuck._

_Motherfucking shit._

_They were really, really fucked._

Despite that his brain was so drugged up, he was aware of _everything_. He saw how Killer drew his weapons, in one hand a gun, in his other one his sick ass blade; Bege and Drake whirled around, drawing their guns too, they were all yelling; Wire drew his gun too, Bonney and Hawkins were coming in the living room, probably curious what all the yelling had been about, they had their guns too – and fuck his motherfucking shitty luck, he was only in his pants and a shirt, and no fucking weapon on him.

One look at the man at the doorway told him it was one of fucking Joker's men.

Maybe it was the coke in his brain that made him act cowardly – or rational? Since he was the only one unarmed he dove behind the couch, and fuck, why was everything so clear for him, so precise, the men pooling in the living room, all Joker's men, the shooting, so many bullets, so many bullets, bullets everywhere, they tore through clothes, through flesh, through everything.

Coke was in the air, coke dust, how ironic, screams, shots, so many shots, blood, so much fucking blood.

He saw Drake and Bege going down, countless red holes on their chests, he saw Hawkins brain paint the wall, he saw Bonney going down, Wire, and then, last one standing, Killer going to his knees, falling over on his face.

The coke in his veins and the pain of seeing Killer, his brother, fucking dying in front of his eyes – fuck, he couldn't believe that Killer lay there in a pool of his own blood – fuck, it all made him ignorant to the stray bullets that pierced his shoulder and his leg, and fuck, his arm, his left arm, fuck, his left arm, so much blood, so much holes.

And then the shooting stopped.

He couldn't move. He couldn't.

He could only hear and see, and fuck, there was a high-pitched sound in his ears, and what else did he hear? Oh, sirens. A lot of sirens.

_Fuck the police._

Then his vision went blank and his ears went numb.

* * *

_TBC_


	2. Prologue Part Two

_A/N:_ This is still the prologue, but damn, next chapter Law will _finally_ make his appearance in this story, and damn, it'll get hot!

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Prologue Part Two_  
_

_Waking Up_

Lieber arm dran als Arm ab

* * *

_Six years ago:_

After Kidd had passed out in Wire's fucked up apartment the police must've found him because he had woken up in a hospital, his less injured arm chained to the bed.

The nurses had stayed away from him, but the doctor in charge had told him that he was lucky to survive that many wounds, but they weren't able to do anything for his left arm. Too much damage done there.

After he had been able to walk again they had dragged him in front of court. They had wanted to know how much he knew, who he was in the grand scheme of things. He hadn't told those motherfuckers anything. He didn't care. Everything had been pretty shitty at that time. He had been found guilty for dealing drugs and a couple other things, but he hadn't really paid attention to what the people in court were talking about.

But he had listened when they told him that he had to go to jail for eighteen fucking years.

So that was where he had ended up. He felt like his life was fucking monopoly and he just stepped on the field _Go to jail_. He felt pretty devastated too, knowing that he'd spent the next two decades in prison. He didn't really give a shit about age and stuff, but he realized that he would spent his best years in prison.

Resignation isn't a nice feeling, but that was exactly what he had felt during the last two years in prison. _Resignation_. He would've fought his fate, would've tried to break out, anything, but knowing that everyone out there he cared about was dead, that Killer was dead, Hawkins, Bonney, Wire…

When he first came into prison two years ago most of the inmates thought that he wouldn't survive longer than two weeks. Well, his useless stump of his left arm might've given that impression, but fuck this, he still got a pretty strong right arm.

After the first two weeks in prison no one dared to come close to him again.

He had felt numb, really numb, the first weeks in prison. It had been Killer's death that pained him the most.

But the rage inside his heart never died. He put most of his energy into training, so that now, after two years in prison, his body became fucking huge. Most of the guards were afraid of him, most of the inmates too.

He had stopped using coke in prison, simply because it reminded him of Killer, the entire blow they had done together, all the shit they had done together, fuck, he still missed Killer like hell. And of course, each time he thought about Killer, he felt the burning rage inside him surface again, screaming for revenge, screaming for blood.

He needed an outlet to all the built up steam. Just thinking about Killer made him angry.

He groaned and got up from the bed he was napping on.

"What's up?" Heat asked him, his cellmate, one of the very few inmates that weren't scared shitless of him. Heat was actually a pretty decent fellow, and he didn't annoy the shit out of him.

"Heat, will ya fetch me one of the little bitches? I need to bust a nut."

Heat nodded and left their cell to get one of the bitches Kidd was fucking in here to keep his rage under control. But before Heat could drag a wimpy, skinny piece of ass back in their cell, suddenly four guards appeared and announced that he had a visitor.

_Bullshit._

He didn't have a visitor in two years.

He had no one out there that gave a shit about him. Bullshit. What were the guards up to?

But he had no choice but to let his hands get handcuffed and to follow them out of his cell block. After another pair of guards joined them on their little walk through the facility, he felt the overwhelming urge to lash out, to kick, to rage, to bite, to finally taste some blood again, yeah, you fuckers, that's what you get if you interrupt the pounding of some ass, you assholes.

His body tensed and then he lashed out, he didn't really wanna break free, he just wanted to hurt, to make them bleed, to satisfy the rage inside of him.

In no time three guards were down on the ground, bleeding, he tasted blood since he bit one of those annoying fuckers, but the guards weren't stupid, they were pretty damn wary around him, since this wasn't the first time he pulled a stunt like this. He felt the familiar sting of a needle placed in his neck, the familiar feeling of chemicals running through his veins, weakening him, forcing him to his knees.

Then, like so often, _nothing_.

He woke up with a familiar headache, damn, why did those fuckers have to turn the light on, it was fucking bright, it was hurting his eyes, fuck, those little shits-

"I think he's waking up." An unfamiliar voice stated.

"No shit you fuckers. Turn the fucking light down, I got a fucking headache." He growled.

"And he has such a foul mouth." The stranger said. _No shit, you fucker, annoy the shit out of me with stating the obvious._

His eyes finally adjusted to the bright light from the neon lamps, illuminating the whole room in a cold, bright light. He noticed that he was laying on some kind of bed, but he got up and noticed to his dismay that his feet were cuffed together, also that his right arm was cuffed to what was left of his abomination of a left arm.

There were a ton of guards standing around at the walls, eyeing him wary. In the middle of the room sat a rather creepy looking man behind a table and observed him with a sick curiosity in his eyes.

No shit, that man was really creepy. And not just creepy in a his-pants-don't-match-his-shirt kinda way. No this man was creepy in the way even _he_ was wary of him.

And fuck this shit, he definitely didn't like the way that creep was eyeing him up. Oh no, like he was about to molest him, or worse. But then Kidd grinned. He was fucking Eustass Kidd after all. It was not that he was afraid of anything.

"Why don't you join me?" The creep asked and gestured to the empty chair on the other side of the table.

He shrugged and walked over to the man and sat his heavy body down on the chair that squeaked dangerously under his weight. He knew that he was easily 200 pounds of pure muscle mass.

"Magnificent." The man whispered.

"What do you want?" Kidd grunted. He wasn't one that played games.

"Oh well, I guess I haven't introduced myself properly. I'm Dr. Vegapunk."

"Vegapunk. Weird ass name."

But Vegapunk didn't seem fazed by his crude remark and continued staring at him. Then he motioned one of the guards to come over. "Unlock his handcuffs."

"I don't think that would be a good idea-" The guardobjected**, **but Vegapunk just stared pointedly at him and nodded.

So this Vegapunk had the power here, Kidd assumed. Didn't really surprise him, Vegapunk's whole body language told him that he was used to commanding lower individuals around.

Warily the guard approached him and unlocked his cuffs.

If he was expected to lash out, he didn't. First he wanted to hear why this Vegapunk wanted to see him. He repeated his question from earlier: "What do you want from me?"

Vegapunk smiled a toothy grin and pointed to his crippled arm. "May I see?"

"Why are you interested in my fucked up arm?"

Vegapunk dropped his arm he had reached out to touch his decreased appendage. "Well, I guess, I should do some explaining first. Like I mentioned, I'm Dr. Vegapunk, an experimental scientist. Lately I was developing a series of artificial limps."

"Prostheses?"

"Like that, only a lot more advanced. But I need to test them first and there aren't many test subjects out of there who would like to have their arm or leg cut off to install one of my artificial limps."

"You can't install those limps on people who have amputated arms or shit?"

"I could, but I need my test subject in a perfect health condition to endure the rather painful process. People with an amputated limp often lack the physical conditions for the endurance of my _experiment_. "

"And that's why you picked me?"

"I had been quite devastated, since my search for a test subject was quite fruitless, but you are quite perfect."

"So that's how it's going to be: You're gonna use me as a guinea pig?"

"Exactly."

"What if I say no?"

"I don't see you in a position where you can negotiate."

"Well, I tend to get quite aggressive with the guards. We don't wanna spoil your little experiment if I accidently destroy a lot of medical equipment or accidently kill or injure your stuff, don't we?"

Vegapunk only smirked.

"So what's in it for me?"

"Well, if you agree to my little experiment, your stay in this facility would come to an end, and of course, you'll have a functioning arm instead of that maimed stump."

"What's the negative side?"

"It'll be extremely painful, there's a high chance that you won't endure the process, etc."

Kidd contemplated the offer for a few seconds, but really, what was there to lose? His meaningless life?

"I'll do it."

Vegapunk smiled satisfied and got a file out of nowhere. He got some papers out and slid them across the table.

"Sign here and here." He pointed two empty lines out and gave him a pen.

Kidd didn't even mind to read the paperwork. He just signed.

* * *

They had never told Kidd how long exactly he had to endure the endless surgeries, the pain, so much red, screaming pain, his nerves were on fire, there was fire running through his veins, poison, so much poison in his body, he was burning, his skin was on fire, he wanted to tear his own skin from his body, so much fucking pain, and it wouldn't end.

It wouldn't end.

Then he lost consciousness again and dreamed wild livid dreams filled with pain and blood, with remorse and hate, with rage and desperation.

He would wake up again, and the pain would be back, so much fucking pain, his nerves were on fire, he couldn't see, he couldn't hear, his vision was a battlefield of red and black, some shadows were lurking around him, holding him down, injecting him with poison that burned its way through his veins, he could only hear his own screams.

* * *

He woke up and it felt like he was surfacing from a deep pool of water.

The pain was gone.

But what was left of him? He felt like a part of him had died during the endless pain. He slowly opened his eyes and tried to understand where he was, what he was feeling, what was going on.

Apparently he was in some kind of cell, it strangely reminded him of his prison cell, but the room seemed a whole lot cleaner and had a medical kinda feeling to it. Everything was white, the walls, the floor, the door, the bed he was laying on. He tried to stand up and WHAT THE FUCK? He had a left arm, a fucking left arm, he could feel the bed sheet beneath his fingers of his left hand, what the fuck?

He looked down and saw that his whole left arm consisted of a bunch of metal and wire.

He tried to lift the arm and it worked, it worked exactly like his right arm worked. He moved it around for a bit, flexed his metallic fingers – and to his utter surprise it worked.

Then he tested how much he was able to feel with his new appendage. He discovered that he could only feel with his artificial fingertips, but that was fine, a huge improvement to how it had been before – before he hadn't been able to feel anything at all.

Fucking shit, his new arm was fucking awesome.

He got up from the bed and looked over the rest of his physique; his body seemed to be the same, the same heavy strands of muscles moving beneath his pale skin, the same old scars. The same old rage inside. At least they had the decency to put a pair of thin white pants on him.

With his new arm he reached up and touched his hair, it had grown – how long exactly had he been in here?

He looked at his arm again. It seemed to work flawless. The experiment was over. He wanted to get the fuck out of here.

As on clue with his thoughts, the door to his cell opened and a few man in white lab coats pooled in his cell. They all started chattering excitedly and touched his new arm, completely ignoring him, doing some tests, checking his blood pressure, and annoying the shit out of him.

"When do I get outta here?" He tried to say, but his voice was all rough and scratchy, but it probably wouldn't have mattered if his voice would be smooth and understandable, because he was completely ignored by the happily chattering scientists. They poked him, lifted his new arm, touched him with their gloved hands.

He was tempted to shove the fucking scientists simply off him, but he wanted to know more about his arm – and maybe the arm wasn't complete yet, maybe there were still some parts to it missing, even if it didn't feel like it.

The door to his cell opened again and a man stepped in, that obviously held some authority over the bunch of scientist fussing around him.

"When do I get out?" Kidd asked the newcomer.

The man grinned and grabbed his artificial arm. "A masterpiece. Vegapunk has outdone himself, for sure." Then the man turned his attention back on him and his grin became somewhat sly. "It was only said that you'd get out of prison. This isn't a prison. We won't break our contract if you're going to stay here since you're not in prison any longer, but instead in this governmental supervised medical facility."

So was the fucker implying that he wouldn't get out of here? "When do I get out?" He repeated, this time a bit more aggressive.

"I don't think that you should worry about getting out. We have to run a lot of tests with your arm. And well, you're now a modified human and government property. It's no longer your choice. You're simply a government experience."

Kidd closed his eyes and shut everything around him out. He took a deep breath and let the words of the fucker in front of him sink in. _Government property, my ass. _He was leaving – _now_. He welcomed the feeling of burning rage running through his blood again, fuck yeah, he let his blood boil hot. He took another deep breath and then opened his eyes.

Before someone could react he shot his new arm forward and wrapped his metallic fingers around the throat of the fucker in front of him. Then he squeezed. He could feel the warm skin beneath his artificial fingers and grinned. Time to lash out.

The man was dead in a matter of seconds, the other scientists around him screamed, blood, oh, there was so much fucking blood around and he was the creator of all this mess. To his genuine surprise his new arm was way stronger than his real arm – and that made him a monster.

After he had killed all the men in his cell he barged through the open door, down some white hallways, where was he, where the fuck was he? Hallways, stairs, men shouting at him, men in his way, blocking his way to freedom, men shooting him, but he shielded his body with his left arm – motherfucking shit, he heard the metallic _clang_ when a bullet connected with his arm, but it seemed indestructible.

He ran, he fought, he raged.

He knew that some bullets were getting him, but his heart was pumping adrenaline through his body, rage, oh so much burning rage, he hadn't felt this alive in a long time. Yeah, that was it, he was fucking alive.

He fought his way up some stairs, in his haze he had enough rational thought left to grab some man in a white lab coat and drag him along, threatening him with his death if he wouldn't show him a way outside.

And finally, after what seemed like a fucked up odyssey, he reached an emergency exit, he threw that white coated worker off him and burst through the door.

The night greeted him with open arms and he greedily sucked in Grand Line City's air.

It was dark out and it was fucking raining buckets, but he didn't care, fuck yes, he was free, finally free.

He ran across what seemed a parking lot and hitched the nearest car, he already heard sirens blaring from the building he just left behind. More shots disturbed the night, and he got the fuck outta there.

They followed him, but that was no surprise, but he was a fucking good ass driver, he quickly shook them off, then he pulled the car into a dark alley and parked it there, yeah, he was so not riding around in that stolen car with most likely some GPS tracking device into build in or else. He found another car parked in that alley and high jacked it as smoothly as possible, then he continued his escape through Grand Line City at night.

_But he had nowhere to go. _

He didn't have money, he owned fucking nothing. He only had a soaked pair of white pants and a fucking noticeable left arm. His hair, complexion and body did the rest for him. He would attract way too much attention for his liking, and in addition to that he was soaked in blood. Fucking great.

He automatically steered the freshly stolen car into the depths of Sabondy. If they were out for the hunt after him he wouldn't make it too easy for them. He had grown up in Sabondy, the shittiest part of Grand Line City. This was his hood. He knew the streets, the way Sabondy worked.

And fuck yeah, he was _free_.

He parked his stolen car in another alley, it was still fucking dark and raining, but damn, the cold rain on his skin was washing most of the blood away, and he'd never felt more alive.

He left the car behind and walked through some dark alleys, he wasn't afraid of Sabondy at night, no, not if he was the monster lurking in the dark.

He didn't know where to go, though.

He wandered mindlessly around, simply enjoying his freedom.

Then he heard the sirens.

And it wasn't only one siren from one police car. It sounded like a whole armada. Motherfucking shit.

He started running again, fuck, he needed to get off the streets, oh there, there was a fire escape, perfect. He started climbing the building and hid behind some pipes and rungs: He looked down and saw a few stories beneath him some police cars racing down the street. He knew that it was a small chance that those cars were looking explicitly for him, but he wasn't quite an unsuspicious individual, running around like he was. It was better to attract no attention.

When those police cars were gone he contemplated of going back down, but he didn't know what it was, he felt like climbing on the roof. He went up the last few rungs and then he stood on the roof, drenched, shaking, freezing, but alive.

He could still hear the sirens.

It was pitch black and it was still raining heavily, damn, he should look for some kind of shelter – and then he suddenly noticed the figure standing on the other side of the roof.

What the fuck?

Did someone follow him up here?

And then the sirens came back, closer and closer. Fuck. He was fucked.

Suddenly the man was right in front of him. He couldn't really make out more than reddish hair and that the man had three long gashes through one eye. And fuck, he was missing an arm too.

"You got a fucking sweet arm right there, you know?" The man said, smiling widely.

He smiled back, baring his bloody teeth: "Yeah, having only one arm must suck."

Kidd couldn't put his finger on what it was that made him trust the man. It was fucking weird, meeting a stranger in the middle of a rainy night on top of a shitty building in fucking Sabondy. But then the man in front of him didn't seem to be intimidated by his appearance. But then the man didn't look exactly harmless either. If the three gashes trough his eye were any indication, his missing arm surely was. And there was something calm but powerful about the man – an aura that impressed him.

The man opened his mouth again and explained: "I'm Shanks, head of the Galleya-Company. You look like you could use a place to take a breath, maybe sleep for a few hours, get some food, a medical check-up and some clothes, what do you say?"

_Galleya_. That definitely rang a bell up there. He hadn't been an exactly clueless dealer back then, when he had been out on the streets with Killer. It was said that _Galleya_ were the only ones out there that could keep Joker and his fucked up gang in check, no shit. It had been a rumor on the streets that the only person Joker was afraid of was _Galleya_. He'd always thought that _Galleya_ was a real person, but apparently it was an entire organization.

"You said you were working for Galleya?"

"I'm the boss of the Galleya-Company. I don't wanna rush you into a decision, but I'm under the impression that they're hunting you down. And it's fucking cold up here and I wanna drink. Follow me if you're interested."

He didn't even need a second to decide.

He followed Shanks down the roof into a new period of his life.

* * *

_TBC_


	3. It's all about the money

Grand Line City _Hearts_

* * *

Chapter One

_It's all about the money_

Bei Geld hört Freundschaft auf

* * *

_Present day:_

Trafalgar Law currently sat in his tiny apartment and buried his head in his hands.

Nami had just laid out the numbers to him. It wasn't exactly a surprise, but it was still fucking devastating. He scolded himself for being so delusional in the first place. He should've never expected that he would be actually able to pay off the 300000$ dept in only three years.

Because that had been exactly what he had done: Believing that he could actually do it, pay off his dept, and thus live a happy life.

He was already working double shifts at the hospital, sixteen hours each day from Monday to Friday, and then another twelve hour shift on Sunday. Every single dollar he had earned he had used to pay off the fucking dept.

Now two years of his three year deadline were already gone, and he had one year and 200000$ left to pay off. You didn't need to be a genius to figure out that that won't work out.

He felt like crying. And fuck this shit, he didn't fucking cry. Not anymore since he had been away from that fucker Doflamingo. The day he had been free of Doflamingo he made the resolve to never ever shed a tear again over his miserable live, because he'd been fucking free of Doflamingo.

He tried to take a deep breath to calm his nerves. He felt like hyperventilating. All those feelings, all those memories he had buried deep inside him were threatening to surface.

_Breathe, Law, breathe._

"What should I do?" he asked Nami, head still buried in his hands.

He felt Nami's hand on his back in a soothing gesture. He knew that Nami wasn't one for openly showing affection, so this simple gesture meant a lot. But he wouldn't break down over this, oh no, he wouldn't. He had been through so much shit in his life, and he had finally done it, finally fulfilled his dream – he was a successful surgeon at his young age - and now he wouldn't let Doflamingo take everything away again. Not after he had worked so fucking hard for his dream.

"I don't know, Law, I don't know." Nami said and still rubbed his back.

Nami was one of his closest friends. The fiery redhead was a couple years younger than he was, but he couldn't care less. Yeah, that was another big plus of his life away from Doflamingo: He was finally able to have _real_ friends, friends that showed him how it felt to be accepted, to have a family of some sorts.

Their group of friends was notorious in Grand Line City, it was said that they were probably one of the most envied clique roaming in Grand Line City, the most the exclusive clique, the most educated, sophisticated and influential group of friends.

Their clique consisted of seven friends. There was Nami, a successful banker, notorious for her seducing tactics, only to lure money from unsuspecting rich bachelors. Nami's best friend was a woman in her early thirties, Nico Robin, who was managing basically all of Grand Line City's museums and art exhibitions. There were two more women in their clique: Kaya, a talented doctor and heir of an impressive amount of money that she'd used for charity purposes only. The Grand Line City Times titled her to be the most generous person in Grand Line City, right next to Vivi, an equally wealthy blue haired girl who engaged in the local politics as a white hope against all the corruption.

When he had first told Nami about his financial struggles, she had just shrugged and proposed: 'Why don't you ask Vivi or Kaya for money?' But Doflamingo was a sadistic motherfucker. He had made a clause in their contract that he would have to _earn_ all the money by himself, no donations whatsoever. Nami had suggested that she'd find a loophole in the contract, anything, so that Kaya or Vivi could pay his dept off – but he didn't wanna involve Nami with Doflamingo. He didn't want to endanger her – and he would _definitely_ endanger Nami if she would start messing with Doflamingo's contract.

And who was he kidding? Indeed the newspaper titled their little group of friends the most influential group in Grand Line City, and that may be true – concerning setting trends in what restaurant to dine in. But no shit – in reality the underground ruled Grand Line City. And Grand Line City's underground was ruled by fucking Doflamingo.

He sighed again and looked at all the paperwork piling on the table.

Nami had known of his financial problem from the very beginning, and she had helped him keeping his living costs as low as possible. If they would go out to a club, bar or restaurant, Nami would pay for his entrance, food and drinks. In return she could save her own health insurance because he had to treat her for free. She was the one who proposed the deal, so Law guessed that she was making quite the profit with this arrangement.

Nami was still rubbing his back. It became somewhat unnerving.

"You can let go now, Nami."

Nami huffed, but let go. She checked her watch and jumped a bit at the time. "Shit, it's getting late! And I promised Robin to stop over, she wanted me to try on that new dress-" She hurried over to the door. Before she left she turned around and yelled at him: "And don't forget, tonight at the 'Baratie'. Be on time, since tonight is the night I plan on getting Sanji to pay his dept." She smirked evilly. Then she slammed the door behind her.

He sighed again.

He was damn thankful that Nami was helping him with his financial struggles, but sometimes he had the feeling that Nami didn't get that Doflamingo was one mean motherfucker.

He checked the time, he had over an hour till Kaku (next to Sanji and him the only other male in their clique) would pick him up to go out. It was a Friday night and his Friday nights were the only luxury he allowed himself. Each Friday night their group would meet up at the 'Baratie', a trendy restaurant downtown where Sanji worked. They'd grab a snack and a couple drinks, and then they would head out to a hip club or bar downtown, or another vernissage or exhibition.

This night they planned to go the 'Arabasta', a notorious night club in the outskirts of Grand Line City. The 'Arabasta' was famous for drug trafficking, prostitution and a broad homosexual scene. Exactly his type of club.

He sighed again at the huge pile of documents on his table and went into his tiny bedroom to change for the night. While he was rummaging through his closet he thought about other ways of earning money, that didn't take up the rest of his free time. He was already working double shifts at the hospital, and he needed the rest of his time to sleep and eat. His only pleasures were his Friday nights he'd spent with the clique.

He finally found his favorite pair of skinny jeans and put them on. He was tempted to wear his favorite black and yellow hoodie with the black smiley face drawn on it, but he knew that Sanji and Nami would throw a fit if he would wear that peculiar piece of clothing on a Friday night. And besides, they were going to the 'Arabasta'. Something that would show off his collar bones and his lithe figure was more appropriate than the old hoodie. He kept on rummaging through his closet, damn, it was one big mess, until he found a white V-neck T-shirt that was a size too small for him. He put it on nevertheless and checked his appearance in the mirror.

The skinny jeans were outlining his ass nicely, and the white T-shirt showed off his stomach muscles. He wasn't sure if he looked good, in his own opinion he was too skinny, but then it didn't matter what he thought about his body, it mattered what others thought about his appearance – well, tonight it did.

He frowned and still looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like he was looking for sex, like he needed it badly. And who was he kidding, if the clique decided to go out to the 'Arabasta', he was for sure using his chance to get some sex. His limited time schedule didn't leave a lot of time to hang around in gay bars to look for a nice hookup. No shit, he only got a break from his murderous schedule on Friday nights, and they seldom ended up in gay bars, even if their whole clique knew that Kaku and he were gay. He wasn't so sure about Sanji, who claimed himself straighter than straight, but Law was good in reading people. Sanji just didn't get it yet.

But well, he hoped he would find a decent hookup tonight. Maybe an hour of mindless fucking would distract him from the looming sword of Damocles above his head. Fucking Doflamingo and his sick mind.

He needed more money. Desperately. And he had to earn it all by himself.

He looked again at his reflection in the mirror. The tattoos on his knuckles. His piercings. More tattoos on his torso. And then a twisted idea started forming in his head.

Desperate measures for desperate people, right? Well, here goes nothing. He fucking needed the money. He needed the money to be able to look at his tattoos knowing he would be free from that sick man; that he would never have to go back to him. Never.

Could he really do this?

Yeah, he could. He would rather let thousands of anonymous man fuck him for money than let Doflamingo lay a hand on him ever again.

He could do this. He would simply sell his body for money. After his double shifts at the hospital he could rush over to the 'Arabasta', take some man upstairs, let them fuck him, take the money, go home, sleep. He would earn a lot of money in less than an hour. And if he would stop going out with the clique on Friday nights – he winced at that thought – he could have various clients throughout the night.

He was fucking disgusted at his own thoughts.

He imagined faceless monsters fucking him dry. He imagined foul-smelling cocks shoved down his throat. He imagined the shame and disgust he would be feeling at his own actions.

Then he imagined Doflamingo's hand caressing his him. Doflamingo's hands touching his junk. Doflamingo's cock buried deep inside him.

Fuck.

He rushed to the bathroom to throw up, but he retched up nothing but bile.

He calmed his frantic heart rate and took some deep breaths. He splashed some water in his face and rinsed his mouth. Damn. He splashed some more water in his face.

Suddenly there was loud knocking on his door. _Shit_. That must be Kaku. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. His eyes were red and due to the water in his face he looked like he had just cried. Fuck.

"Give me two minutes!" He yelled from the bathroom. He knew that Kaku would hear him through the thin door.

He heard a muffled "Fine" coming from the hallway.

He rubbed his face dry with a towel and then applied some black eyeliner to emphasize his grey eyes. He would give it a try, prostituting himself. If it wouldn't work out, if he hated it throughout, he wouldn't do it again.

_Give it a try, Law, _he told his reflection in the mirror.

When he finally left the bathroom to open the door for Kaku, he wondered if he could still watch his reflection in the mirror after he came home tonight.

The ride with Kaku to the 'Baratie' was rather quiet. He didn't feel like chatting with the square nosed man.

When they arrived at the 'Baratie', it was around eleven at night, their usual time to meet. Kaku and he sat down in a booth in the back of the restaurant and ordered some drinks. The drinks arrived in no time since the 'Baratie' was closing up around this time and there were hardly any customers around. He took a sip from his whiskey and almost sighed in relief. He knew that he wouldn't make it through the night without any alcohol, so he thankfully downed the whiskey in one huge gulp. He immediately felt the alcohol race through his worn out body and affect him. Alcohol on an empty stomach was usually not a very good idea, but fuck this shit, tonight it would be the only help to his cause.

After he had the waiter refill his glass, he smiled. Maybe he would find a client that was extremely wealthy and would find extreme pleasure in tipping him generously.

Yeah, as if.

But Kaku seemed to notice that his black mood was slightly improved and that it was now save to talk to him. "Did you have a bad week?" He asked with serious concern in his voice.

"Yeah, my week had been pretty damn shitty. I had a couple of patients die on the table. Always hate it when that happens." _Yeah, and I have realized that I can't possibly pay of a 200 000 $ dept I owe to a fucking dangerous rapist, so I have to go back to him in one year, and since I wanna avoid that at any cost I decided to prostitute myself, _he added in his mind.

Kaku nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I mean those Friday nights are the only distraction we have left from work, don't we?"

"Yeah."

Law didn't really know what Kaku's job was, since he wasn't allowed to talk about it, but it had something to do with the government and it apparently wore him out too, he seemed often mentally and physically exhausted. A state of body and mind Law could easily relate too. Maybe that was one of the reasons why he got along with Kaku so well.

They just sat in the almost empty 'Baratie' and enjoyed their drinks in silence from now on, waiting for the rest of their clique to show up, enjoying the last bits of peaceful silence before-

"NAMI-SAN! ROBIN-CHWAN! I'm sorry you had to wait for me!" Sanji cried when he emerged from the kitchen. There went their peaceful silence.

"Nami and Robin ain't here yet." Law said.

"Oh, it's just you, shitheads." Sanji helped himself to a drink and joined them in their booth. Law could see how eager Sanji was watching the door, waiting for his precious girls to walk him. No shit, that man had some serious issues.

Kaku asked Sanji about his day, always the polite gentleman he was, but Sanji seemed to be too worried about the absence of his angels than to answer Kaku's question. But suddenly Sanji whipped his head around and asked out of the blue: "Why aren't you two dating?"

Law couldn't help it, he just had to laugh really hard. No shit, Sanji was too damn oblivious to the world. He couldn't stop his laughing fit. Not even when Kaku and Sanji both kicked him under the table. "You're fucking funny, Sanji, shit, really!"

"I was just asking! I mean, you two would be a great couple! You hang out together all the time, you get along well, and you both look kind of hot-" Sanji tried to defend himself.

"Sanji, what if Law was just not my type?" Kaku asked, rather pissed off.

"And besides that, Kaku and I are both bottoms." He added.

"Bottoms?" Sanji asked. Law couldn't suppress his grin. Sanji was just so fucking clueless. He saw out of the corner of his eye how the girls arrived and how Nami bent down to whisper in Sanji's ear to probably tick him off: "What about bottoms?"

As expected, Sanji blew up. "NAMI-SAN! ROBIN-CHAN! KAYA-CHAN!"

The girls ignored Sanji's outburst for the most part and greeted Kaku and him with hugs and kisses. When they finally all sat down and Sanji could breathe normally again, Law winked at Nami and tried to keep the lecherous smirk out of his voice when he asked: "So what are we doing tonight? Anything special?"

"Not really-" Sanji tried to say before Nami interrupted him.

"Well, I guess we got some plans for tonight." Nami grinned evilly and Robin's smile was a bit crueler than her usual mysterious smirk.

"We thought we'd go to the 'Arabasta'." Robin added.

"Fine with me. Hadn't had some real fun in a while. 'Arabasta' sounds just great." He supported Robin's suggestion.

"I'm in." Kaku and Kaya nodded, both also aware of Nami's and Robin's rather deceitful scheming.

"Wait, what? We're talking about the 'Arabasta', right? The notorious and infamous 'Arabasta'? The drug dealing place? The brothel? Why would I wanna go there?" Sanji freaked.

"The 'Arabasta' is not as bad as you think. It's true, you find every kind of _distraction_ there you seek, but the drinks are good, the music is fine and according to the Grand Times Magazine one of the city's trendiest clubs." Robin reasoned.

"And Sanji, did you forget about our little bet last weekend? Did you seriously think we would forget about it? The Arabasta is the best place to find someone, you know." Nami grinned and winked back at Law. Nami, Robin and he had created a sweet little intrigue to get Sanji to realize that he was indeed playing for the other team – and since Robin and Nami did become rather annoyed by the constant drooling over them. So they tricked Sanji into a simple bet, Sanji lost the bet – and now he had to get intimate with a man.

They all observed Sanji. There still was the possibility that he wouldn't do it, even if he had signed one of Nami's legendary contracts and all. The gears in Sanji's head seemed to be working, and then he finally spoke up: "Yeah, let's get it done and over with."

"What are we waiting for, let's go!" Law suggested, before Sanji might change his mind again.

They all chose to take a cap to the club, since they all planned on drinking tonight.

During the cap ride Sanji bitched about his bet and set the rules for his _experiment_. Sadly he and Kaku weren't allowed to watch. He acted like he was all excited about Sanji's situation, but secretly he was rather thankful that Sanji created such a huge commotion about his lost bet, so that no one would pay too close attention to what he would be doing later at the 'Arabasta'. Unintentionally their scheming had worked out as the perfect distraction for his first night as a prostitute, since he didn't really want any of his friends to find out what he was about to do.

After a twenty minute ride they arrived at the 'Arabasta'. The bouncers checked their IDs and since it was hardly 11:30 pm, the club was rather empty. The 'Arabasta' usually started burning up around one or two in the morning. Their little group sat down at an unoccupied table in a rather dark corner, from where they could still observe the entrance of the club.

Kaku got them their first round of drinks and Law happily started downing the heavy liquor. Nami and Robin were already scanning the crowd for possible victims for Sanji.

"What about him?" Nami asked and pointed at a blonde man with glasses on the dance floor.

"No offense, Kaya, but Sanji doesn't like blondes." Robin said. Kaya giggled and ran her hand subconsciously through her blonde hair.

"Wait, I _do_ like blondes-" Sanji protested.

"The blonde dude over there isn't gay anyway." Law ended their little argument. No shit, he could even tell from this distance that the guy over there was straight.

"How can you tell?" Sanji wanted to know.

"It's actually pretty easy. It's the way gays stare at asses."

"_WHAT?_"

"You heard me. Gay guys check out asses; preferably asses of men. Even the bottoms do." He couldn't suppress a grin.

Sanji mumbled something in defeat, but he wasn't listening anymore. A small group of men had just entered the club, and damn, it felt like everyone in the club whipped their heads around to stare at the group. He wasn't sure what it was, maybe their exotic hair colors, the utter confidence they all emitted, their muscular bodies – he knew he was drooling by now. Three of the five men that just had entered the club were extremely bulky, but the other two men weren't exactly small or lean either.

He couldn't look away from the group. They all emitted just so much raw energy, so much confidence, so much danger. Especially one man stood out. He had flaming red hair, wore some goggles in them, maybe to keep his rather long and wild looking mane in check. The man was fucking huge and probably the most muscled man he had ever seen. No shit, even Doflamingo would look remotely skinny next to that beast of a man.

And the best part of the beast was that he was indeed checking out asses. He grinned. "Give it a try, Sanji. See the guy with the flaming red hair that just entered the club? He doesn't notice anything, except the asses of the guys around him."

Law watched the group of men disappear in another dark corner of the club. He noticed with amusement that Sanji was still watching the corner where the men had disappeared around.

"What?" Sanji snapped when he noticed that everybody was watching him with amusement.

"Dude, you were totally checking him out!" Kaku cried.

_Oh no_. The red haired beast was his to hit on. "That's unfair, I saw the red haired man first!"

"I didn't check the ginger out. I was checking the green haired one out." Sanji stated. Law almost sighed in relief. He took another gulp of his drink and had to process what just had happened first. So he wanted that red haired beast of a man, even if he had just caught a small glimpse of him. _Didn't know you were such a masochist, _he thought_, _because that red haired fucker had looked downright dangerous.

He tried to concentrate on his surroundings again, but some of his thoughts still lingered on the red haired beast. He just knew that that man would be the first one he would try to sell his body to.

That man or no one.

But before he could actually go through with his plan, he needed a lot more to drink.

* * *

Eustass Kidd was a Galleya worker down to the core. He enjoyed construction ships during the day, because what was sweeter than the cold feeling of steel beneath his fingers? Bending metal with his bare hands, shaping that fucking awesome material with the pure force of his own muscles – he had finally found something he could occupy himself with, some would even say that he'd finally found a hobby of some sort.

And of course working for the infamous Galleya Company did not only include constructing ships, oh no, even more fun were the nightly activities of the Company. The Galleya Company was mainly a notorious underground organization in Grand Line City. They usually dealt with all kinds of weapons and of course, there were rival underground organizations which had to be kept at bay, and for both, the dealing with weapons and the dealing with the rival organizations, was merciless violence indeed needed.

And what was more fun for him than to blow some shit up, to fuck shit up?

He knew that he had a short fuse and that he was an extremely aggressive man, no shit, considering what he had gone through. But finally, here within the Galleya Company, he had found something he'd call a _home_, and he found nakama, other men that were as messed up as he was, outcasts and misfits of society, not fitting in anywhere but here.

He had learnt that he was a misfit back in middle school, and from there on his life went pretty much downhill.

He had started drinking at an early age – not really surprising, considering that his mother was an alcoholic. He had lived with his whore of a mother in a shitty apartment and basically the only things left in their fridge were often half empty bottles of liquor.

In school the other kids teased him for hid old clothes, for his red hair, for his pale skin, that his mother was whoring around – the list could go on and on. But fuck school. He had dropped out in year eight, meeting Killer and his small gang. They were just a bunch of kids, drinking, dealing, doing coke and shit, living in an old garage, where they would remodel some stolen cars.

They had forgotten that they had been only teenagers.

Live out there was pretty harsh. Liquor, weed, coke – that made it more bearable.

Killer and he had become best buddies, mugging cars together, dealing with a lot of shit, doing snow, fuck, lots of sweet fucking snow. They often had partied for days without getting sober in between, they were getting in fights, breaking noses; they were fucking girls, fucking boys, everything, fucking everything up.

_Killer had been like a brother._

Fuck. He fucking missed Killer. He was so not going there right now. _Don't go there_. Concentrate on the present. _The present._ Killer was long dead, no need to grief over the past.

Yeah, the present wasn't bad. And he had found pretty decent nakama within the company, new brothers that had lived an equally harsh life before they had become part of the company.

For example there were Ace, Zoro and Rob Lucci, his closest friends within the company, and damn, he had always thought he had no conscience, that his heart was made from metal, but shit, when he had met Rob Lucci he had realized there were even colder motherfuckers out there. Lucci's heart was most likely made out of ice.

And Ace… he didn't really know how to describe that little shit. Always grinning, always lighting shit on fire, always eating. Yeah, shit, but he was fun to hang around, and that kid could fight if he wanted to. And Zoro as well, he was rather calm and grumpy, but drank even more than he did, and no one, not even he, wanted to stand between Zoro and his swords.

Today he had worked the day shift in the shipyard, so that meant he had the night off, and there were basically three options how to spent your free nights as a Galleya worker: You could stay at the bar in the apartment building, drinking, starting a fight with some of your nakama and spar a bit; or you can go down to the 'Ring', an illegal fighting club and beat some asshole to pulp; or you can just walk up the street to the 'Arabasta', a nightclub, owned by that fucker Crocodile.

Currently Zoro, Luffy, Usopp, Franky and he were walking down the street to the 'Arabasta'. Luffy and Usopp jumping around and acting like the characters in some weird story Usopp kept on telling (they pretended that they were all pirates). Those annoying shits had way too much energy for his taste. He sighed and trotted behind Zoro down the road to the rather shitty night club.

The 'Arabasta' was mainly a bar, but they had a small dance floor too, and well, the 'Arabasta' was known for drug trafficking and the rentable rooms upstairs, used by prostitutes of each gender. Yeah, he felt like fucking some nice piece of ass tonight. Preferably someone who liked it rough.

After five minutes of rather peaceful walking (he just ignored Luffy and Usopp and their antics) they arrived at the huge parking lot of the 'Arabasta'. The bouncers let them in without even a second glance; they were regulars. The club was fucking busy tonight, since it was Friday, Kidd acknowledged.

They went through the wooden double doors and were immediately greeted by the deep bass vibrating through the club, the noise of people trying to hold a conversation above the loud music, the smell of sweat, alcohol and sex. He let his eyes wander around the crowd, just checking it out, and then his eyes got stuck on a group of people sitting around a table in the back. A lot of girls and two guys. The group didn't seem to fit in here, the place to roughed up for those kinds of people. They belonged in one of the nice clubs downtown, not in this drugged up hell out here in the deserted industrial parts of Grand Line City.

The place was crowded and their small group fought their way through the mass of dancing and intoxicated drunks to their usual spot in the back of the bar. They ordered their first round of shots. It was tradition that the Galleya workers would drink the first round together. Kidd grinned at the slight burn the booze left when it ran down his throat. He was in the mood for a second shot, so they all shared another round.

He took off to search the crowd for some fuckable asses, but he didn't really see any to his liking. There were a few regulars, but he knew that fucking the same ass more than two or three times would always lead to trouble, to some jealously issues, to attachment… oh no, he was so not fucking one of the regulars tonight.

He returned to the bar and sat down on the barstool with his back to the bar, legs spread wide, in a not so subtle invitation for whoever would come by. He ordered another drink and watched with amusement how Luffy and Franky practically tore the dance floor apart with their antics.

The beats of the music tore through his body and he felt how his heart beat in the same rhythm as the music. The atmosphere in the club changed with each passing hour. In the beginning it was always about drinking and smoking, chatting with friends, eyeing the crowd up. But then the night became darker and soon booze and cigarettes were replaced by coke and some joints. The air became heavier, filled with smoke and humidity, the crowd wasn't dancing any longer, you could hardly describe _that_ as dancing, when a body rubbed against another sweat slicked body. That was grinding, intercourse while still being fully clothed.

It was also way to warm in this damned club, he felt his wife beater sticking to his skin, his heavy coat wasn't helping, but he was so not taking his heavy fur coat off.

He still observed the crowd like the dangerous predator he was. He didn't feel like going out there and grabbing some random piece of ass, no, tonight he would wait till his prey would come to him like a moth couldn't resist the flame.

The bartender refilled his already empty glass again.

Men like women stepped by, offered to buy him a drink, or were just skipping small talk and were coming right down to business, but none of those people were to his liking. He knew what he wanted, and to his annoyance he didn't find it yet.

He took another gulp of his drink and contemplated for a second to go for a nasty fight on the parking lot instead of a fuck to let out some of the build up pressure, but shit, he wanted a nice piece of ass and not to break someone's nose. Or he could always get really shitfaced. That was always a solution.

He kept on observing the crowd, and he could tell exactly who was drunk and who was not only drunk but on drugs. He felt a wave of nostalgia crash over him. If Killer would be here… yeah, they would have tons of fun, they would've probably torn the place apart by now, only because they would've been bored to death… they would've shared some lines, shared some girl in the bathrooms which liked two cocks inside her at the same time…

But Killer was dead since that one fateful night eight years ago.

_Fuck you, Killer, for going down that easily. Fuck you for leaving me behind. And fuck that motherfucker Joker, you'll meet him in hell, because we'll all end up in hell, but guess what, before you'll see me again, I'm going to send Doflamingo on a silver platter down to hell and then you can fuck him up like he fucked up us._

Shit. His drink was already empty again. Damn. He waved the barkeeper and he refilled his glass without much fuss.

He took a sip of the liquid that burned down his esophagus and turned his back to the bar, legs still comfortably spread in an unmistakable invitation for whoever would be interested.

And then he saw _him_.

He was leaning casually against the wall across the club. Kidd couldn't really see everything of the man, since there was a partying crowd between them, but shit, that man looked _interesting_. He could only make out black short hair, a goatee and his lean figure. But there was something about the expression in the stranger's face, something he couldn't place, something that utterly intrigued him.

_Come to me._

And as on clue the man's eyes darted upward and locked on him.

Kidd grinned. His feral grin would either encourage or frighten the stranger away. He hadn't had any use for the later.

And then the man grinned back. It wasn't really a grin, rather a sly smile, but it satisfied Kidd the same.

_Come to me._

And then the stranger came.

His prey was walking towards him, making his way gracefully through the crowd, eyes still locked on him.

Kidd let his gaze hungrily wander all over the stranger's body.

Fuck.

He knew he wanted that man, that man or no other.

And then the stranger stopped in front of him, letting his gaze rake over his body equally.

Kidd's smile widened as he checked to man in front of him out. The stranger wore incredibly tight jeans, where nothing was left to his imagination. Fuck, the man had deadly long legs, and Kidd had to withstand the urge to twirl the man around to check his ass out. But he just knew that it would look downright eatable in those tight pants. His mouth went dry as he let his gaze travel upwards.

The tight white T-Shirt was sticking to the man's body due to the humidity in the club, the sweat, maybe some spilled liquor, but fuck it, he could see the man's flat stomach, his abs through the thin material, and fuck, he could see hints of black tattoos through the thin shirt.

The stranger's arms hung loosely at his side, lean but muscled, brawny tan limbs, covered in tattoos.

And then his burning gaze reached the man's face, and fuck, he liked what he saw there. Huge grey eyes that stared at him with a mixture of lust, desire, and defiance – and fucking shit, the man in front of him did the same thing as he was doing: _Eye-fucking him._

The stranger's hair was black and short, and his sly smile revealed a row of white teeth. Several piercings marred the stranger's ears, and beneath his eyes were telltale dark circles that the man was used to nights were you would do anything but sleep.

Kidd wanted this man.

And the object of his desire apparently came to the same conclusion. The man stepped forward and filled the space between his legs. Kidd let out a growl of approval and reached out with his real arm to grab the stranger's hip.

The flesh beneath his fingers was fucking hot. He got a hard on only imagining burying his cock into the strangers scorching hot flesh.

"What shall I call you?" Kidd rasped and stroked the stranger's hip.

The stranger grinned again and bent forward to whisper in his ear: "Call me _Heart._"

"So, _Heart_, you wanna fuck?" He wasn't one to beat around the bush.

The walking piece of sex that called himself _Heart_ only smiled and answered: "The question is: Do _you_ wanna fuck _me_?"

"I do. But I say it only once: I ain't knowing nothing 'bout being gentle. So be warned."

Heart nodded and then smiled again: "Good. Then let's get down to business. 200 bucks for an hour. I only do it with a condom."

"You shitting me?" Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He had really wanted to fuck the shit out of the man in front of him. But he fucking despised prostitutes. The dirty whore that gave birth to him had been the best example for him why to stay the fuck away from hookers. And fuck this shit, he looked good enough to plow some ass for free.

Heart shook his head.

Fuck. He really wanted to fuck that man. The heat he emitted, the aura of mystery that surrounded that man – FUCK!

And damn, 200 fucking bucks? That was a shitload of money. The usual rate for a prostitute around here, male or female, varied between 50 and 100 bucks an hour. So what was so fucking special about the black haired man in front of him that he could charge twice the usual price? He couldn't fucking help it, he was fucking intrigued with the prostitute in front of him.

"You often work here, _Heart?" _He tried to keep the malice out of his voice, but the slight change in the other's eyes told him that it didn't go unnoticed.

"No."

Kidd wasn't sure if that answer satisfied him or not.

But then he _really_ wanted to fuck that man.

"Your ass better be fucking tight." He growled, got off his barstool and went over to where the stairs to the rentable rooms on the upper floor were. He knew instinctively that _Heart _was following him.

If Killer could see him right now he would definitely laugh his ass off and call him a fucking hypocrite. And fuck this shit, he probably deserved it.

* * *

**A/N**: HAHAHAHA I'm probably the meanest person on earth to stop here - but the smut will come next chapter, lots and lots of smut XD

Leave a fucking review!

_TBC_


	4. Tonight I'm fking you

Grand Line City _Hearts_

* * *

Chapter Two

_Tonight I'm fucking you  
_

Mann gegen Mann

* * *

The red haired beast of a man that had just agreed to pay him two hundred bucks for sex walked over to the stairs that led to the second floor and Law was still standing at the bar, dumbstruck, and watching the man walking like a hungry predator, stalking through the dancing crowd that parted unconsciously for him. He shuddered. Fuck, the man's backside was a sight. He couldn't make out a lot, since the crowd and that fur coat were concealing most of the man's figure, but his broad shoulders spoke for themselves. Shit, that man had even broader shoulders than that fucker Doflamingo.

Then he noticed that he was supposed to follow the stranger – his _client_, he corrected in his mind – upstairs to where the shitty bedrooms were. Fuck, he was really going to do this, right?

He shuddered again and set his body in motion. His heart was beating like crazy in his chest. He tried to tell himself that he would've hit on the red haired man even if wouldn't try to sell his body. In a regular night with regular circumstances he would've taken the man home, hell, he would've blown the man in the parking lot, he was _that_ fucking intriguing – but tonight was different, his life was different, and the circumstances were different.

Fuck, he was really doing this, right? He was going through with this shit. He was selling his own body.

He hated that he was faltering, that he was still hesitant, that he still had doubts.

His eyes were glued to the back of his patrons head, the amazing red hair, long and unrestrained. When he finally set his body in motion and followed the beast of a man through the crowd he tried to keep his eyes on him, it calmed him down for some fucked up reason.

He tuned everything out, the loud music that was blaring from the speakers, the dancing and sweating crowd, disgusting bodies that bumped into him, the rotten smell of cheap perfume and aftershave mixed with cigarette smoke and the unmistakable odor of marihuana invading his nostrils – he tuned all of that out and only followed the pale man to whatever dark place they were going.

When his _customer_ (he sniggered inwardly) reached the stairs he realized that their positions should be reversed: He should be the one leading his prey upstairs, he should be the one doing the seduction, not the other way round. It's not supposed to be like this. He was the fucking predator in this. Only because the red haired beast was exactly what the label _beast_ indicated – a heavy muscled beast with fucking broad shoulders, twice the size of him – didn't mean that he himself wasn't fucking dangerous too. No shit, spending his teenage years with Doflamingo probably made him the toughest and most dangerous motherfucker in the whole club. He had learnt early that muscles weren't everything when it came down to fighting. You needed brains too, if you wanted to survive. _And brains he had. _

He grinned, since he had finally found his temporally lost confidence again.

He caught up with the beast and followed closely behind him up the stairs. His nose almost bumped into the back of the man's coat, and usually he would be able to _smell_ something, he would be able to distinct what the man smelled like – if he would smell rotten or gross he knew what to do – he needed to rely on information that his senses supplied him with since he was going to give his body to that man, shit, for all he knew the beast would find his pleasure in killing unsuspecting prostitutes. He was frustrated that he couldn't smell the man, fuck, his nostrils were still fucking blown-

He stumbled into the broad backside of his customer since he had just stopped dead in his tracks. _Fuck, Law, concentrate._

Apparently his customer knew the employee guarding the rooms down the corridor.

"What's up Bon?" His customer asked the man – hell, that was no _man_, that was a _drag queen_, since there was a shitload of make-up in the face of the man, and it appeared that he was actually wearing a dress. _What the fuck?_

"Kidd-chan! Lovely to see you here! You got business with Croco-san?" The queer sang in an obnoxious voice. So his customer knew those kinds of people? _Disquieting_.

"Nah, I ain't got business with scarface. I wanna room." His customer rasped and dug out his leather wallet to hand the queer a green bill. Law was confused for a second. Wasn't he supposed to pay for the room? He was the hooker in this equation. But then he wasn't complaining. He needed every fucking cent he could get his hands on – and the red haired beast paying the room fee meant that he could save the twenty bucks.

The queer gave his customer an inquiring look, but then he grinned and gave the man his change. "Kidd-chan, let me watch and you'll get the room for free!"

His red haired customer gave Law a smirk and then turned his attention back to the queer. "Over my dead body, Bon, over my dead body."

The queer mimicked an overdramatic sad face: "Kidd-chan, you're mean! But well, have fun, lovebirds!"

His customer flicked him off and then stalked down the hallway. Law hurried after him, he didn't really want to spent more time than necessary in the presence of the crossdresser. He was freaking him out.

The red haired man stopped in front of a door with the number six on it and unlocked the door with the key he had gotten from the queer.

The red haired man stepped inside and then turned his head around, asking him: "You're coming?"

Law could only nod and then stepped into the small room.

The room was barely lit, there was only a lamp above the queen sized bed that dominated the small space. The lamp emitted a soft reddish light, but it didn't reach the corners of the room – Law guessed it was for the better, since the room didn't seem to be on the clean side.

He tried to ignore the fact that they were probably not the first guests to use the room tonight, and by far the last. His insides clenched at the thought of what icky substances might be left on the bed. Yuck. He was so taking a two hour shower after this.

He heard the door shut behind him, and then the soft, barely audible _click_ of a key turned in a lock. So his customer locked the door. Shit. He was probably going to get murdered, and no one would hear him scream, since the beats from downstairs were coming through the floor, blocking most of the other sounds from the club.

He turned around to his red haired customer. In the dim light of the room he looked even more feral, the features of his pale face sharp, his weird but at the same time oddly intriguing shaped eyes glowing softly. Fuck, those were the most interesting eyes he had ever seen. And then his lips. As pale his face was, his lips were a stark contrast, because they were a deep burgundy red. _Begging to be kissed._ He wanted to slap himself for where his thoughts were going again. But his gaze was still on those entrancing red lips. He wondered absently if his customer wore lipstick or if that were their natural color.

His customer's hair was a flaming red, most likely his natural color, judging by his fair skin complexion. His shock of red hair was barely kept in check by a pair of goggles. Yeah, it looked pretty unrestrained and he tried to deny it but he felt the strong urge to run his hands through that shock of flaming hair.

His customer glanced at his expensive looking wrist watch and then said with that deep baritone of his: "We got one hour, right?"

Law could only nod.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Strip."

He nodded again and then climbed on the bed. _Shit. Shit. Shit. I gotta act like I do this every day, I gotta make this good for his customer. Maybe if he likes me then he would come back for another night. _He wasn't really looking forward to sleeping with another guy every night, and if he would make it really _really_ fucking good for the red haired patron, he might use his services more often. He cringed at the term. _Services._ Damn, he was in deep shit.

He lifted his eyes and met an intense amber stare that seemed to burn him.

"Strip, _Heart_, strip for me."

Fuck. This gaze alone was enough to make him hard. And only because the man was paying him that didn't mean that he couldn't have fun. Hell no. He licked his lips seductively and never broke eye contact with his patron. The red haired man stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed in front of his chest, staring holes in his skin.

Then he felt the beat coming from downstairs, the vibrations subtly rocking through his body, his hard cock straining against his tight jeans.

He stretched his body sensually on the bed, then he ran his tattooed hand through his unruly hair, it was already slick from sweat and the humidity all over the place, played with it a bit and then he let his hand trail down the side of his face, down his neck, over his collarbones that were visible through his white skintight shirt, then lower, lower, over his abdomen, lower, fuck, he was getting fucking turned on only by his own hand caressing his own body – no, he wasn't turned on by his own hand, shit, it was the beast of a man _watching him_ with those hungry eyes.

His hand reached the hem of his shirt, he was wriggling his body, rolling on the bed in a hopefully somewhat seducing manner – and then he lifted the wet material over his head and dumped it on the floor.

Was that his imagination or did his patron just suck in a breath?

He grinned and licked his lips again. He met the man's stare again and started playing with his hard nipples, oh shit, keep your shit together Law, but fuck, his little nubs were overly sensitive and his fingertips were damn good at teasing his own flesh – oh fuck, did he just moan? Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was slowly coming apart under the man's gaze, fuck, he had to stop this, he was losing control, he was losing control-

"I said _strip_, not tease me, you little shit."

Law withdrew his shaking hands from his nipples and opened the fly of his jeans. He tried to wriggle out of them, but they were sticking to his skin and his straining erection wasn't helping the process. Ah shit, why-

The pale observer suddenly grabbed his twitching legs and stilled them. Then he grabbed the constricting material and just yanked it down.

Fuck, that man had some strength in his arms. He could only lay on his back, panting heavily, his cock laying on his stomach, fully erect, looking up in those dangerous amber eyes.

He observed how the man opened the fly to his own pants and then dug out his cock and presented it to Law.

_Holy motherfucking shit_. That was some fucking monstrous cock. And that was supposed to fit inside of him? Shit, shit, shit. He felt his insides already clench – in fear, or was it anticipation?

"Suck it."

Ahh, fuck.

He got on all fours and crawled over to where the man was standing, still fully dressed in his heavy fur coat, the white wife beater and his pants. Only his cock was sticking out and damn, it was definitely matching the man in his size.

Law looked up to the man towering above him, eyes ablaze. Then he lowered his head and grabbed the man's cock, ahh shit, it was really fucking hot and it twitched in his grip, shit, and then he slowly brought his mouth closer and closer to the man's straining erection.

Finally he was able to smell the man, and shit, this wasn't something he was prepared for, the heavy musk the man emitted, fuck, it went downright in his already hard as fuck cock.

Suddenly a huge hand grabbed his hair and nudged his head forward. He got the hint, but played resistant for a second or two. He could tell that the man liked it. And he was for sure not a whore that would just lay back and spread his legs. _Oh no_. Only because he was getting paid for fucking didn't mean that he would be an easy one. Hell no.

The man above him growled and tired to press his mouth onto the straining erection, and fuck, that beast was fucking strong, but then he chuckled softly and instead of licking that hard cock he _blew_ on it. The fingers of the man clenched in his hair. Oh, this was fun indeed. He blew on the cock again and placed one hand on the rock hard stomach of his patron for leverage.

He drew in a deep breath, then he opened his mouth and engulfed the tip of the man's cock in his mouth. It twitched.

The man above him moaned.

Oh shit. He could taste the man on his tongue, and he had never tasted something that had affected him more than this. Fuck. Salty. Musky. Individual. Fucking delicious. More. He wanted to taste more. He wanted to hear the man moan again. He wanted to be the one to be responsible for the man losing control. He wanted to be the one that made the man fall apart only using his mouth.

He let his tongue swipe along the underside of that heavy and fucking long cock, shit, if he had to guess those were easily eight inches there, and the base of the cock was still hidden inside the man's pants. So shit, they were talking about roughly nine inches here. _Nine fucking inches_.

A shudder rocked through his spine. What a beast.

He trailed the veins of the hard cock with his tongue, then he was back at the tip, twirled his tongue around it – ah, shit, that made the man moan – then he licked the little slit, tasted a drop of precum, put the head back in his mouth and applied some pressure, sucked in his cheeks to let the man feel as much as possible.

"Stop playing around, _Heart_, and get down to do some real work." The man rasped above him.

Law let go of the cock and looked up at the man, who wore a displeasing scowl on his face. He grinned. "But why, mister, if you like it?"

Before the man had the chance to answer or to shove him roughly back onto his cock Law was already there, taking in as much of the man's long and fucking thick cock as possible. He felt like the corners of his mouth were tearing, like he was choking, shit, he had to suppress the urge to gag – but it was all totally worth it, judging on the reaction of his patron.

The man _growled_. He fucking _growled_ like the beast he was.

He hollowed his cheeks again and then bobbed his head up and down the entire length. A huge hand was in his hair, tugging on the strands and guiding him up and down the straining erection.

Law was breathing harsh through his nose, fuck, the cock was fucking huge, he concentrated to not gag as the cock hit the back of his throat repeatedly, but shit, it was so fucking huge, so fucking delicious, so fucking hot.

_Maybe he didn't even need to take that monstrous cock up his ass, if he sucked him off as good as possible, maybe if the man would reach his completion in his mouth he wouldn't get it up a second time – _ahh, shit, he should stop lying to himself. This beast of a man was surely capable of getting it up twice in one hour, who was he kidding? Shit, no one in his right mind would pay two hundred bucks for only a blow job.

The red haired man above him moaned.

Shit, he had a task at hand. He concentrated back on the huge cock in his mouth, he sucked, he twirled his tongue around it, he licked, he cupped the man's balls – shit, why was he so fucking turned on by giving head to that man?

He tried to keep a regular pace, bob his head up and down, _don't gag_ – but his patron grabbed his head rather harshly and forced him to eat as much of his dick as possible.

He forcefully withdrew his head and gasped for air. Panting he started up to his smirking customer.

"Do it harder, _Heart._"

To his satisfaction his patron was already panting hard too and he could tell that the man was close, really close. Before the man would force him on his dick again he already was back at licking the tip, teasing the man, stroking the shaft with hard strokes. He had a certain feeling that the man liked it rather rough.

He looked up back in those glowing orbs and then he swallowed as much of the straining cock as possible. He moaned around the huge rod in his mouth, hollowed his cheeks and sucked the ever living shit out of the cock.

He could hear grunts coming from above, but he couldn't concentrate on his other senses, on his own neglected cock, no shit, all he felt was that fucking hot dick in his mouth, pulsing, throbbing.

He tried to take the cock as deep as possible, he fondled the heavy sack, and then without any warning, the beast grabbed his head again and forced his cock down his throat and came. Hot cum was dripping down his throat, filling up his mouth. Tears gathered in his eyes, he was choking, shit, shit, shit – and then the death grip on his head loosened and the spent but still fucking huge cock slipped from his lips. Only the musky taste stayed.

He felt trails of cum mixed with his spit run down his chin. He glared up at the man that had used his mouth so ruthless. The fucker was smirking.

"That was nice for the beginning, _Heart_, but you can still work on your deep throating, don't cha think?"

"Fuck you." Law snarled, forgetting that he was supposed to please his customer.

"I like them defiant, I definitely do. Prep yourself."

"Huh?"

"I said: Prep yourself, if you don't wannit up the ass dry."

Law shuddered at the thought and quickly searched his discarded jeans for the small bottle of lube he kept in a pocket. He found the bottle and noticed from the corner of his eyes that the pale man was getting rid of his pants. For some reason the man still wore his heavy coat and thus the white wife beater beneath, shit, did the man wore a black leather glove on one hand? Shit. _That was creepy._ Immediately some thoughts of those leather clad fingers around his neck popped in his head.

The red haired man still stood at the foot of the bed and was watching him. He hurried up and poured a generous amount of lube on his fingers. He would for sure need it.

He leaned his back against the headboard and spread his legs, so that the red beast had a nice view of his puckered hole and erect cock.

He gave his hard cock some strokes, then he dipped his hand lower and finally entered one lubed finger into his hot hole.

Fuck, he was tight. Ahh, damn.

He tried to loosen himself up a bit, twisting his finger around, buried knuckle deep in his ass.

His patron was watching him with those scary glowing eyes, and fuck, he had never met a hotter stare, shit, that look was enough to ignite a fire in his gut.

The red haired man was stroking his dick back to full hardness, watching him intently.

Ahh, fuck. He inserted another finger and pumped them in and out, scissored them, tried to stretch his tight hole as good as possible. Shit, if that huge cock was supposed to fit in there – his last fuck was like three months ago, and if he remembered right he was on top that time. His ass wasn't ready for that cock, no shit.

He panted harder.

When was the last time he had fingered himself? Damn, he only jerked off in the shower, no fingering. Shit. He had forgotten how good it felt. FUCK! There was his prostate, shit, shit, shit, he couldn't stop stroking that particular spot, oh shit, he had forgotten how nice it felt to have something inside him, to feel full again – oh fuck!

Under his patron's scorching gaze he inserted a third finger, fuck, that was probably the most he could take, ahh-

He writhed on the bed, ached his back, oh shit, stroking his prostate was addicting – he felt tempted to stroke his cock, but he knew that he would come immediately. He settled instead for watching the heavy muscled man stroking his cock to the sight of him, moaning and writhing on the bed with his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of him.

"That's enough." The deep baritone of the man stopped him.

He withdrew his fingers from his tight hole and just lay there, occasionally twitching, waiting to be thoroughly fucked. The anticipation was killing him.

His patron was grabbing his ankles and yanking his body towards him. The sudden movement made him cry out in surprise, but he quickly shut up when he noticed the pale man hovering over him, still clad in the white wifebeater and the fur coat, but naked from the waist down. The man's tremendous erection was pointing towards him, and shit, the realization that _that_ was going to be inside him crashed over him like a wave of cold water. Or hot fire. Shit. He _wanted_ that huge dick inside him, all the pleasure it promised, all the pain it would bring for sure.

He still writhed on the bed, shit, his ankles felt like they were branded by the hot touch of that man, shit, his skin was probably hotter than the man's hair color – ahh fuck, this was going to be the end of him, shit, he would die from anticipation-

"I'm gonna fuck you now, _Heart_." The man rasped, face contorted into a mixture of lust and strain.

"Condom" breathed Law before they would forget. Damn, the man was only grabbing his ankles and was keeping his legs spread apart, and he was already losing his mind, panting, waiting, throwing all cautions overboard.

The man above him grunted and dug out of the depths of his coat a small foil packet. He ripped it open with his teeth, ah shit, those white, sharp looking teeth, hidden behind those fascinating red lips – then the leather clothed hand unrolled the thin rubber protection over those eight, almost nine inches of his.

Then the man crawled on the bed and spread his legs even wider apart. He got yanked forward so that his exposed crotch was meeting the pale man's. _Oh shit._

The red haired beast grabbed his prominent erection and placed it at Law's slicked entrance. He tried not to think. _It won't fit. It won't fit. I'll hurt. It'll hurt. But fuck it all, I want him inside me._ Shit, the _not thinking_ thing didn't work so well. Instead he tried to concentrate on the man above him. The man was sweating, small beads of sweat were making their way down the man's forehead - SHIT!

Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck, the man had pushed his huge cock through his tight ring of muscles, ah shit, tight, he was too big, ohh, the burning stretch, shit, shit – _breathe Law, breathe –_ and then the man pushed all the way in.

Both their bodies were connected at the most sensual and intimate place and the intensity of it blew Law's mind. He was stretched to the brim, so fucking full, ahh, the sweet pain, but his toes were curling, his treacherous body _liked_ the total seizure.

The pale man grabbed his hips, stilled his writhing and jerking body with those huge hands clamping down on his hips, and then, to his surprise, the red haired beast leaned down, his huge erection still buried to the hilt in Law's body, and rested his head on his shoulder, and placed small kisses at his throat.

_Shit_. He wasn't prepared for that. Not at all. Shit, he couldn't handle kisses, he could handle pain, he could handle to be dominated, he could handle to get insulted, fuck, he could handle all kinds of sick stuff, thanks to Doflamingo, but _this_ – to have that beast lean down and perform an act of affection, a small but tender gesture – that wasn't what he had signed up for when he had approached the red haired man sitting at the bar, no, not at all.

But then the moment was over, the man lifted his head back up, smirked at Law's probably really dumbstruck expression – and then the man's grip on his hips intensified to the level that it was probably bruising – and the fun started.

The man slowly withdrew his fucking huge cock and then slammed back inside. Law ached his back, his body convulsed; his hands were frantically searching for something to hold onto, he settled for grabbing the hard, fur clothed forearms of the man, ahh, fuck!

He couldn't think anymore, lust raced through his veins, pain and pleasure clouded his brain, shit, more, more, more-

Everything vanished in frenzy, colors blurred before his eyes, he was moaning, blabbing incoherent words, what was he saying?

"Fuck, fuck, ahh, shit, more-"

The pale man was as relentless, as brutal as he had imagined – that huge cock pounded into him merciless, abusing his ass, and shit, _he liked it._

The rhythm was fast, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the small room, overpowered by moans and grunts.

"Fuck, Heart, you're so fucking tight-"

Fuck yes, he was sweating, trashing, taking all he could get, shit, the friction was killing him, shit, the man hit his prostate, shit, shit, shit – he bit his lips so he wouldn't cry out too loud, he clenched his fingers around the man's forearms as hard as the man was bruising his hips with his hard grip.

He was surprised by his own intense reaction. Usually he was the one dominating such an encounter, he was the one driving the other one crazy, but no shit, the tables were turned. He was the one coming undone beneath the huge stranger, he was the one breaking apart in tiny little pieces.

Suddenly the red haired man raised his hips and changed the angle, oh fuck, that was it – there, right there, more, don't stop, don't fucking stop –

The man above him groaned and pounded into his flesh with even more vigor, shit, what was it about this man? His brutal physical strength? His fucking huge cock that was fucking him merciless – FUCK! The man had let go of his hips and now the leather clad hand was stroking his weeping cock in harsh strokes, fuck, the cool leather of the man's glove was a kink he didn't expect to react so violently to, but shit, his hips were meeting the man's thrusts, his back was aching, he was back to biting his lip, fuck, fuck, _what was the man doing to him?_

And then the man was staring at his face again, his own features twisted in the frenzied lust they were both feeling, but shit, those glowing amber eyes were locking with his – and nothing was hotter than those eyes sharing the passion, shit, he lost himself in those eyes, that look, fuck, that _look_, they were _connected_, connected through flesh, connected through lust, connected through their souls.

He couldn't take it anymore. It was too much, too much to handle.

"Heart, yeah, like this, meet me-" The man mumbled, stroking his erection, leather on skin.

The heat coiled in his groin became unbearable, his senses exploded, fuck, no more, he was gonna burst –

"FUCK!" He screamed out and all the built up pressure erupted in one fucking intense orgasm.

His body twitched, his muscles spasmed and then some of the haze left his brain and he could observe the last shudders of the man above him, the pale man grunted, threw his head back and he stilled after one last powerful thrust.

Air.

He needed air.

Breathe, Law, breathe.

The man above him seemed to do the same thing: Trying to catch some air. After a few seconds they were both lying there, silence surrounding them, nothing could be heard than their harsh pants and the beats coming through the floor, and then the red haired beast flashed him a grin, all sharp teeth and red lips. "That was fun, _Heart." _

He nodded weakly and winced slightly when the man withdrew his still rather hard cock and threw the used condom on the ground.

Law was still lying on his back, watching the muscled beast moving on the bed. Then it was his turn to grin up at the man. "You up for a second round?"

"Fuck yes, I'm fucking paying for a whole hour, and it ain't over."

Law grinned again, sat up on the bed and used his moment of surprise to topple the man over on _his_ back. He was straddling the pale man's hips and had his hands back on the huge cock that twitched eagerly beneath his fingers.

The man looked up at him and he must've caught his playful smile because he was returning it to him no less playful.

"Like to be on top, _Heart?_"

Instead of a reply Law stroked the man's cock with more vigor, fuck, that man was already back to full hardness. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed another condom from a bowl on the nightstand where they were conveniently displayed.

He opened the foil package with his teeth and fit the rubber on his patron's huge erection. He held the pale man down with one tattooed hand, grabbed the hem of the white wifebeater and lifted it up, admiring the ribbed stomach muscles that were revealed. He wanted to go further, to explore the outstanding physique of the man beneath him, so he trailed his hands up beneath the wifebeater, finding the man's nipples, pinching them, eliciting a groan from him. He grabbed the hem of the heavy fur coat and wanted to slide it over the man's broad shoulders, but the red haired man quickly grabbed his wrists and stopped the movement.

"The coat stays on." He grunted.

_Kinky motherfucker. _

Oh well, he wasn't the one dying from a heat stroke.

With his other hand he reached for the small bottle of lube again and squeezed some lube on his fingers. He slicked his sore hole once more, then he grabbed his patron's rubber clothed cock again and slowly lowered himself on it.

Shit, huge, so fucking huge.

Damn. His stomach muscles tightened, sweet tremors rocked his body and he wasn't the only one suffering from his slow, ever so slow lowering. Inch for inch. Slow.

The red haired man beneath him grunted and grabbed his hips once again, stilled his slow movement and then thrust upwards.

FUCK!

His prostate was hit, pleasure and lust erupted – and he started riding his patron, letting out his dominant tendencies. This time he was the one taking from the red haired beast, he was the one who took what he wanted, he was the one that did the fucking. And judging from the look of his customer he fucking liked it too.

Those huge hands still stayed on his hips, but the grip wasn't bruising, it was almost like the red haired man was holding onto him, not guiding him, but using him for leverage.

Fuck yes, if Law was the one bottoming, he loved to ride his partners. He wasn't one of those helpless bottoms that went on all fours and spread their legs, fuck no.

He grinned down at the man and rode faster, he slammed his ass back down on that huge cock, ahh, the burn, flesh on flesh, he felt the frenzy take over, the lust, the passion.

Harder.

Faster.

He was arching his back, throwing his head back, and lifting his hips up and then slamming back down, skin on skin, flesh slapping flesh.

This time they both needed longer to reach their orgasms, but fuck, he knew he was a damn tease – each time he sensed the red haired man was close, he slowed his movements down, he stilled, he waited. And just before the short fuse of the man beneath him would burst and he would be thrown over and pounded into oblivion, he sped his movements back up.

When Law couldn't possibly prolong the slow torture he had help up, he slammed down three more times and fuck, he felt the cock inside of him twitch and come, ahh, his prostate was hit one last sweet time – and that was it, he was coming, ahh, fuck, fuck, fuck-

.

.

He opened his eyes, shit, his ass ached, and to his slight confusion he was laying on his back, the red haired man looming over him.

"You're such a tease." The man commented.

Law grinned and tried to stretch his aching muscles. But the pale man had other plans for him. Huge hands manhandled him and placed him on his stomach, butt sticking out. He felt an unclothed hand probing at his entrance and smearing some more cold lube in it.

_Did that man never tire out?_

He tried to brace himself for what was about to come, he heard another foil packet rip open, then another intrusion in his body.

He was tired, shit, he was worn out, but his body still ached for more, his hips still met the man halfway, he still let out a long moan.

Oh fuck.

He face was pressed in the gross mattress, skin was slapping on skin, his relaxed muscles tensed up once again, and he couldn't help it, he was moaning, there was the leather clad hand back on his cock, ahh shit, shit, this was unfair, the sensations-

"Yeah, like that, take it-"

The man pounded into him, one hand on his back keeping him pressed into the mattress, the other hand holding his rear back up, his back was ached in an unbelievable angle, and his prostate was hit with every fucking thrust.

This was unbearable.

So fucking hot.

Fucking intense.

Fucking deep.

Shit.

His ass was on fire, his cock was aching, too much, too fucking much.

The red haired beast was pummeling his ass and Law felt that the man, no, _beast,_ was finally unleashing his true nature, his animalistic, truly unrestrained side. He was powerless compared to that. He could only receive.

And receive he did.

His sweat slicked body was trembling and still demanding more, ahh, fuck! FUCK!

He came, he screamed, he clenched, he trembled, he crashed.

.

.

The red haired man was resting on his back and was pressing his body into the mattress. He tried to breathe, but it was fucking hard with two hundred pounds of muscle laying on top of him. The hot breath of his customer tickled on his neck and he tried to wriggle free from that crushing weight. The pale man seemed to get the hint and rolled over.

They both laid in silence, only panting.

After a few exhausted seconds the man got up and searched the ground for his pants. He put them on and was about to leave through the door, when the man stilled and dug his wallet out of the depths of his coat. The man threw five green bills on the bed, then gave him a last look and left. The door closed behind him with a soft _thud._

Law's mind was pretty much empty. He stared for a couple minutes at the closed door, unable to move. Then his brain suddenly came into motion. _Five green bills?_ That didn't make sense. Three fifties, two twenties? _Five twenties?_ That fucker-

He grabbed the bills and to his utter surprise he held five fifties in his hands. Two hundred and fifty fucking dollars. No shit, that was a lot of money there. He'd need at least twenty for the cab ride back to his shitty apartment, but that still left two hundred and thirty for him. Shit.

He quickly forced his protesting body back into his clothes, shit, _he would never wear tight jeans_ _again_, and pocketed his money.

He left the shitty bedroom without a glance back. He nodded to the queer who was still guarding the hallway and went outside.

He wanted a shower and his bed. Desperately.

He fetched himself a cab and rode home.

He was for sure coming back to the 'Arabasta' tomorrow night, hoping to come across the red haired beast once again. Oh – he totally forgot to ask for the man's name. But _beast_ was just fine for him.

* * *

**A/N**: I wish fanfiction would create a category called _badassness_. This story would totally be in it. So I had originally planned that all that happened in this chapter and in the last three chapters to be the first chapter. Well, I guess this story is going to be a little longer than planned… and don't worry, there will be some plot – it will start back up in chapter six?

Leave a review! Love, M.

_TBC_


	5. Ice, ice baby

Grand Line City_ Hearts_

* * *

Chapter Three  


_Ice, ice baby_

Wie die Tiere

* * *

When Law got home that night from the 'Arabasta' he hardly managed to unlock the door to his shitty apartment. His body was sore all over, he felt absolutely disgusting – he was drenched in sweat, beer someone managed to spill on him on his way out, and most embarrassingly, his own juices, still sticking to his skin from the multiple orgasms earlier that night with the red haired beast. He was thankful after all that he made the pale patron wear a condom, otherwise he was sure he would be leaking a lot of cum from his ass too. Ahh shit, he needed a shower. _Now._

He closed the rather thin door to his apartment behind him and stumbled in his bathroom, ripped the dirty clothes off and took a fifteen minute shower until the water in the small heater was all used up.

Before he fell into his bed he texted Nami that he made it home safe, then he finally fell face first into the cushions, closed his eyes and drifted off into deep dreamless sleep.

* * *

On the next morning Kidd was furiously working in the shipyard, bending metal plate after metal plate, ramming steel bolts through steel.

He needed the workout. He needed the unbreakable material break beneath his bare fingers – well, beneath his bare artificial arm.

Only the other Galleya workers knew about his artificial arm and what he was actually able to do with it. When he was outside the Galleya grounds he usually wore his favorite fur coat, or a heavy leather jacket and a black leather glove to conceal his rather attention-grabbing appendage. He used to be very careful out in public with his not really unremarkable looks, since he knew that the government was most likely looking for him after he had managed to escape from that _place_; his flaming red hair, his bulky build, his light brown eyes and his pale skin weren't really helping keeping a low profile, so for the first few months after his escape he hid most of his looks beneath long coats and hoods, and only left the Galleya grounds at night.

But after Rob Lucci had joined the team he had found out due to Lucci's detailed research concerning his case that Vegapunk had decided for some reason to not even report his escape – the files concerning him said that he supposedly had died on the table during that experiment.

Of course Rob Lucci wouldn't let go with that tiny bit of obviously false information. That boy fucking knew the government and their fucked up ways. So Rob Lucci did some further research on his case – it seemed pretty illogical to him that the government would just let go so easily of him, and Lucci thought the same. But apparently there had been some internal struggles, another mad scientist had tried to take over - a fucker named Ceasar Clown – and Vegapunk wouldn't let that nut job have his results.

In the end Kidd was the one who apparently profited from those internal struggles: He got away with a new and pretty awesome appendage while Vegapunk took the secret of his artificial limp to his grave. And all the other doctors and scientist that had worked on his arms either died at his hands when he made his escape, or they went down with Vegapunk. Lucky him.

When he had joined the Galleya Company he had met Franky, Eisberg's step brother, and the man was just downright fascinated with his fake appendage. He had analyzed the artificial arm and had found out what he was all able to do with it. Apparently a lot of fucking sweet things.

He was relieved when Lucci told him all of this shit, since now he could actually go out in public showing his face, hell, he could go out _during the day_. But of course, showing off his artificial arm would be pretty dumb. People would ask questions. He would draw a lot of unwanted attention to him. No, no one outside the Company knew about his mechanical arm. And if someone noticed it during one of their raids or their deals – well, they never stayed alive long after they had caught a glimpse of his arm.

The only downside of having such an awesome weapon attached to his body that no one he didn't trust (and as mentioned – he trusted _no one_ outside the Company) couldn't know about was the sex. Well, there was no particular rule that forbid to fuck with your nakama, but he didn't know what it was, but he didn't really _want_ to have sexual encounters with the other workers. Not that they weren't hot, or interested in him, shit, most of the other Galleya workers were either gay or had really weird tastes what possible bed mates concerned. _I mean, shit, who would possibly want to fuck Kalifa, that stuck up bitch? _

No shit, he knew that Ace, Zoro and Lucci were interested into the same gender as well, and they weren't exactly subtle about their sexual preferences, but Zoro and Lucci were both tops –_ahh shit, _who was he kidding? Fucking someone in their group of friends would just remind him of his time before the Company, before jail, before Killer was shot, before his clique was killed.

_Fuck you, Joker_. _My steely fingers will wrap around your throat and squeeze the life out of you. I swear. I fucking swear._

Since he didn't find sexual relief within the company he had to go out and fuck some anonymous asses – not like he had never done that. And usually the encounters were quick and anonymous, he hardly let his pants down, he only got his cock out and shoved it up some ass. Or down some throat. Easy.

But last night had been different. Fucking hell, of course it had been fucking _different._ That had been the first fucking time he had actually _paid_ someone for sex. Fucking shit, he thought he would never go down _that_ road. Not after everything that shitty whore of a mother had done to him. He grimaced that the term _son of a bitch_ was actually correct in his case. Killer had used to tease him with that. He had been the only one that had ever been allowed to call him that. Everybody else got an encounter with his fist.

Yeah, shit. And now he had done it. Fucked a prostitute. Paid money for it.

It wasn't really the fact that he paid two hundred and fifty bucks for the little shit, no, it wasn't the amount of money that irked him, no, it was that he _paid_ in the first place for sex.

But then, that man last night wasn't the role model prostitute. No shit, that man had been different.

_Really? Different, Kidd? Or are you only telling yourself that to justify that you actually fucked a whore?_

He shrugged in annoyance where his own thoughts were going. Damn that little shit for being a prostitute. He had just wanted that man the moment he had laid eyes on the tanned lithe figure. He had been horny as hell, and fucking shit, it had been totally worth it. That man had been fucking _tight._ There was no way that man had another man before him that night, no shit, the man hadn't had another man in a long time, he could tell.

That fact made the prostitute for him even more intriguing. So was _Heart_ usually topping his patrons? He wasn't exactly small, he was only small and lean compared to _him_. Or was _Heart _new to the business? Fucking shit, he hated that he even thought about that whore, that _Heart_ was all he was thinking about. It fucking infuriated him. That fucking whore did _not_ get under his skin. No fucking way. No fucking way. No fucking way.

He let out his built up frustration on the poor slab of metal he was working on. Motherfucking shit.

And the most shitty part about the whole ordeal? The fucking fact that infuriated him the most? He knew that he would go back to the 'Arabasta' tonight, keeping his eyes open for the tattooed hooker.

* * *

Law woke up and for the first time this week he felt thoroughly relaxed and well-rested.

He looked at the digital clock on his nightstand. 6:23pm. No wonder he felt rested, he had slept easily fifteen hours. And damn, he had needed the sleep. The double shifts at the hospital were killing him, and this week had been bad, really bad. He lost way too many patients on the table. He was a rational man, he knew that those deaths had nothing to do with his skill, he knew that he was the best heart surgeon in whole Grand Line City, hell, probably the best in the country, but he still had that small irrational part of his brain that kept telling him that it had been _his fucking fault_ that he had lost those patients. Maybe if he didn't make that cut there – stop. He was not going there.

No more thinking about work.

He stretched and tried to get out of bed. Shit, why felt his body like he had been beaten up by Doflamingo himself?

Oh yeah, he remembered now, the sex. The two hundred and fifty bucks. The red haired beast. Yeah.

Shit, he needed another shower.

When he let hot water run down his body his thoughts went automatically back to the last night. He couldn't help it; he replayed the whole encounter in his head, from his rather bold approach, the shitty room, the crazy fucking.

Shit, he was getting hard at the memories.

He wasn't in the mood for rewarding his treacherous libido with a quick hand job, so he turned the water ice cold and let the cold water work its magic.

And besides, he planned on going back to the 'Arabasta' tonight.

He got out the shower, dried himself off and shrugged on his favorite clothes, the yellow hoodie and another pair of light blue skinny jeans. Before he put his dirty clothes from last night in the washer (and all the other dirty clothes from the past week) he searched the pants from last night for his freshly earned money.

He found the four fifties and what was left of his change from the cab ride. He stacked the four fifties away in the envelope he would send Doflamingo at the end of the month, his usual monthly amount of money to reduce his debt. He put the small rest of the money in his wallet.

He needed to do some grocery shopping. He couldn't live of Sanji's food every day.

He ran his errands, restocked his fridge with some essentials: mils, eggs, butter. He didn't have enough money for luxury goods like cheese or meat, though. But he could live of rice and noodles, they weren't too expensive.

He got his clothes from the washer and spread them out all over his apartment to dry, since he didn't have a drier. He cracked the windows so that the humidity from the drying clothes could get out, he checked the time, shit! It was already past ten, and his Sunday shift started at eight in the morning – so if he wanted at least six hours of sleep, he had to get going, _now_.

He quickly got rid of his old yellow hoodie and dressed in a black button down. He didn't feel like changing his pants, so he left the apartment in his faded skinny jeans.

Only when he was already on his way to the 'Arabasta' he noticed that maybe the pale man from the night before probably wouldn't be at the 'Arabasta' so early.

* * *

Dinner with the other Galleya workers that night was pretty uneventful, not counting the usual ruckus that Ace and Luffy were causing. Damn, the food tasted like shit, Kidd thought. They needed a cook.

Franky and Usopp were doing most of the cooking, and well, he wasn't really envying them for their jobs, he wouldn't want to cook for the bottomless pits that Ace and Luffy were, and shit, the rest of the workers were eating like starved animals too.

He had to work tonight, Shanks expected them ready to go at midnight, so he still had some hours left before he had to be ready for work.

He could nap a few hours. Or he could train down at the gym, maybe spar a bit with Zoro or Lucci. Or go down to the 'Arabasta' for a few drinks.

_For a few drinks?_ Who was he kidding? He would be looking for the raven haired hooker. But would he even be at the club that early?

He wanted to punch himself in the face. He was so not thinking about all this shit.

"You gotta work tonight?" Zoro's question interrupted his train of thoughts.

"Yeah, why?"

"Just wanted to see if you wanna go down to the 'Arabasta', but if you gotta work-"

"Shanks wants us ready at midnight. So I still have some time to kill. I'm in."

Zoro flashed him a grin and they both went upstairs for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Kidd decided to wear his old and pretty worn out leather jacket tonight, since his favorite fur coat was in the washer, that thing had stunk like hell after he had fucked _Heart_ wearing that heavy piece of clothing. Yeah, that was definitely one of the downsides of his artificial arm. It had been fucking hot under that coat, he had been sweating like a pig.

But if he couldn't wear his coat, he wore at least his favorite pair of red pants with huge splashes of yellow paint all over it. He donned a black wifebeater, the black leather jacket, his wallet – he even checked if there were enough bills left to pay for another encounter with the prostitute – ahh shit, he was pathetic.

He decided to leave his trademark goggles behind, his hair was still wet from the shower, so he just slicked the wet strands back on his head.

He quickly donned some heavy black boots and left his messy room to meet Zoro downstairs. They walked the short distance to the 'Arabasta', no need to take their bikes. The night was warm, and no clouds were marring the night sky.

He and Zoro hardly talked on the short walk down to the 'Arabasta'. Zoro wasn't a talkative person to begin with, and he wasn't in a chatty mood either. He was perfectly content with only walking next to the stoic man and thinking about his own trouble. No shit, he still felt the urge to face palm when he thought about the prostitute. He knew he shouldn't go back, it was a fucking hooker, for god's sake – but every single step of his heavy boots were bringing him closer to the club. God damn it.

There was already a line at the entrance, it was a Saturday night after all, but he and Zoro skipped the line, greeted the bouncers and were granted admittance. The perks of being ruthless Galleya workers.

There were hardly any people on the dance floor and the music was pretty laid back since the night was still young. Kidd didn't mind. He didn't come here to _dance_. Hell no. He was only looking for an outlet for his built up rage. Pummeling the shit out of metal slaps earlier today hadn't been enough to satisfy his inner beast.

Ace used the term _emotionally retarded_ for his behavior. Each time he would get upset, get angry or something was just bugging him, something he didn't really want to deal with – each of those times his inner beast took over and he felt hot rage running through his veins, his vision went red, he wanted to see _blood_, he wanted to _destroy_ – yeah, and right now he didn't really wanna think about the _Heart_ situation, that he came back to do the prostitute again if he could find him – and because of that he was fucking confused, and as a result of his confusion and uneasiness he needed an outlet, his inner beast was raging – well, he thought, Ace's words _did_ fit. Emotionally retarded. That didn't really disturb him. As long as his personal outlet for his rage were some fights he picked in the dark alleys of Grand Line City, or some ass he pummeled. And his rage did come in handy when they were dealing shit with Shanks, or if they were on a raid.

Yeah, fuck you, Ace, at least _his_ outlet for rage didn't require to set countless cars on fire.

He noticed that Zoro was already at the bar, ordering shots. Fuck yeah, next to fucking and beating the shit out of people, alcohol was always a solution. Zoro handed him his shot and he downed it. Fuck it all.

They both sat at the bar in companionable silence, downing a few shots. After their third shot Kidd felt like something heavier, so he went for bourbon on the rocks. He checked the time, damn, it was already past ten and he didn't catch a glimpse of _Heart_ at all. Zoro was doing the same thing as him: Scanning the crowd.

"What are you looking for?" His curious nature got the better of him.

"Blondie. You?"

"Some nice ass to fuck."

Zoro grunted and downed his drink. Yeah, good idea. Time for a new round. The bartender had just handed them their new drinks when he noticed a raven haired man entering the club.

He couldn't make out his features, they sat too far away and there way too many meaningless people in between the bar and the entrance, but there was something familiar about the way the man walked – he smirked.

Time to hunt down his prey.

He grabbed his drink, nodded Zoro goodbye and made his way through the crowd, looking for _Heart_. He followed the tan male around, stalking behind him. Hmm, his prey seemed to look for something, maybe for a new customer? Someone who looked rich enough to pay two hundred bucks for an hour of pleasure? Someone else to fuck? Oh no, his prey was fucking nobody but him tonight.

He stalked closer, and yeah, no doubts, that was definitely the same man he had fucked the night before. Fuck yes.

But tonight the man looked different, oh yeah, he wore a black dress shirt instead of that skimpy white shirt that had left nothing to imagination. Tonight the man didn't actually look like a hooker. He looked _modest._ Fuck, _Heart_ wore probably more clothes than the majority of the people in the club. Was he even working tonight?

One way to find out. He reached out and tapped the raven haired man that still stood with the back to him on the shoulder. The man visibly froze, then turned around. He wore a deep scowl on his face and his eyes were glaring with venom. Oh, the hidden anger in this man. It was too delicious. He wanted to break the man, break the man open, tear his insides apart and make him surrender. A shiver went down his spine, directly in his cock. Shit. Say something, dumbass.

"Hello _Heart,_ you working tonight?" He snarled, glad that his voice didn't reflect the inner turmoil he felt at the sight of Heart's face. He just wanted to force that face down on his cock, bury his cock balls deep in that rebellious mouth that just turned from the scowl into a sly grin.

"Do I look like I'm working?" Heart answered, clearly amused with him.

That little fucker. But two could play this game, whatever it was. "You were looking for something – or rather, _someone_."

"What gave you that impression, mister?"

And that was it. His patience was worn out. He wasn't up to play games, no shit, he should congratulate himself that he didn't punch Heart the moment he opened that feisty mouth of his. Or that he didn't fuck him against that wall right there. His fuse was blown. _No more games_.

"I don't have the whole night, you little shit. You either move your tight little ass upstairs, or you leave my field of vision – now."

"Aren't we eager tonight? Someone needs it bad-"

Before he could tell Heart to fuck off, the slim man had sauntered already past him and was making his way through the crowd. He was left standing there, wondering if Heart was taking up on his request of leaving his field of vision, when he noticed Heart standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor, suggestively leaning against the railing and mouthing: "You coming?"

Hell yeah, that little fucker had it coming.

He followed Heart up the stairs and was once again greeted by an overly bored Bon Clay, fiddling with the different room keys. His face lit up into a disgusting grin when he noticed him approaching his little desk.

"Kidd-chan! Such a pleasure-"

"Shut that trap right now, or I punch you. I need a room."

"Kidd-chan, why are you always so mean to good old Bonnie? And come on, my offer still stands, let me watch you and you get the room for free-"

Kidd's fuse was scarcely short tonight. He grabbed Bon at his collar, yanked him towards him, shoved a bill down his mouth and grabbed a random key from the desk. When he released the sputtering Bon Clay he coughed and spat out the green bill. He quickly recovered from his assault, though. "Aren't you eager tonight! I love your rough side-"

That was the second person that told him in the span of five minutes that he was _eager_ tonight. He ignored the okama and grabbed Heart's wrist to get them to the privacy of one of the shitty bedrooms. He scanned the key for a number: _4. _He dragged the surprisingly complacent Heart with him to the door with the number _4_ on it and opened it with the key.

The room was as shitty as the room the night before. No major differences. Shitty bed. Shitty red light. Shitty floor. No window. _Inviting._

He locked the door behind them and motioned for the prostitute to sit on the bed. Heart easily complied and he couldn't resist and raked his gaze all over the man's body.

Shit, the man had a fucking beautiful body. He liked a lean build, knowing that the man was skinny, but still clad in toned muscle. And that ass. Fucking tight ass. Oh, he wanted to bury himself there, thrust into that tightness, into that heat – he felt his cock swell in his pants.

"Get rid of your clothes." Kidd commanded.

Heart lounged his body on the bed, taunted him with a heated look from his heavy lidded eyes, and slowly began to open button after button of his black dress shirt.

What a sight.

He still stood at the door and simply enjoyed the view. Heart knew how to put on a show. He realized he had still his drink from earlier in his hand, bourbon on the rocks. Awesome. He sat down on a stool next to the door, legs spread as an automatic response to the sight before his eyes, and enjoyed the burn of the cold liquor running down his throat, while he watched Heart finally getting rid of that annoying black shirt.

Oh yeah, he liked that torso. The tan skin stretched over defined stomach muscles, countless black tattoos outlining and emphasizing every curve of that sinewy body.

Heart was now working on the fly of his jeans and wriggling his way out of them. Damn, that brat was fucking sexy, undressing in front of his hungry eyes, just for him – _no._ Don't forget, you dumb shit, that asshole is doing it for the money, for the money alone. But all those thoughts vanished from his mind when Heart was finally rid of those concealing pants and he could rake his gaze all over his naked body, lying beneath the red lamp on display for him alone.

He took the last gulp from his drink and let the ice cubes swirl around in the glass. They clinked and suddenly he got a brilliant idea. Fuck yeah. But first he needed Heart to attend to the most urgent needs.

"Come here." He rasped and the naked piece of eye candy crawled over to him on all fours. Kidd spread his legs even wider. "Get down here and suck me off."

He smirked when he saw the scowl reappear on Heart's intriguing face. He was for sure not kneeing on the disgusting floor. But _Heart_ had no choice. He decided he loved making that little shit suffer a bit.

Reluctantly _Heart_ stepped down from the bed and kneed between his spread legs. Oh, he just knew that _Heart_ despised kneeing on the filthy floor. And maybe that knowledge made it all so more enthralling to have the feisty raven finally down there, on his knees, looking up at him with those piercing grey eyes, enlarged by black coal.

He grinned down at the deliciously naked man and suggestively opened his fly and freed his rock hard erection from the constricting material. He stroked his cock right in front of _Heart's _face and then he just couldn't resist – he had to slap the intriguing face with his cock. _Slap._

"What the fuck?" _Heart_ spit out. Oh yeah, _Heart_ was so not liking this. That made him grin even wider.

"Suck it, you little shit."

Before he could slap _Heart_ a second time with his cock the raven had already took a hold of his cock and sucked it deep in his mouth. Oh shit, yeah, fuck, like this, _Heart,_ shit, like this-

He relaxed his own hold on his cock and folded his arms behind his head, relaxed in the shitty chair and let the fucking hot prostitute do all the work. Fucking shit, it felt fucking awesome to feel that soft mouth wrapped around his cock, sucking, licking, swallowing – fuck yeah, deeper, yeah, fuck yeah.

"Deeper, _Heart,_ swallow it right up –ahh shit, like this, fuck yeah, like this, oh I bet you like choking on my cock, that's what really turns you on, doesn't it? Shit, yeah-" Oh shit, that mouth around his cock did _things_ to him. _Things_ so naughty that he had to swallow his own words, fucking shit, that fucker could suck cock –

"Faster."

And the black haired man obeyed.

Shit, the friction was killing him. He knew he was going to come soon. But that was what that was for, right? _Heart_ was only sucking the edge from him, the first raging need. Then he would fully indulge in the sweet body kneeing so willingly in front of him.

He buried his hands in _Heart's_ hair and urged his head forward, increasing the pace at which the raven was sucking his cock. Oh fuck, that mouth was fucking amazing, it took everything he had to give, and more. He knew that _Heart_ was meeting his limits, he was choking, tears appeared in his eyes, but fuck that, he was too far gone to care, and shit, he knew that this would be over soon, the way that fucker's mouth felt, oh fuck, he wasn't gonna last.

"Yeah, like this-" And then he felt _Heart's_ tongue swirl around his cock while he was face fucking him, oh shit, that tiny bit of pressure added here – FUCK!

He came buried balls deep in _Heart's _mouth, that velvety cavern sucking him dry, swallowing every splash of semen he had to give.

He let go of the raven's hair and his half hard cock slipped from _Heart's_ lips. What a sight.

_Heart _was choking and trying to breathe properly again. He cursed and shot him a death glare. Kidd couldn't help but smirk at the obviously displeased _Heart. _

"You almost choked me, you insufficient brute."

"Oh, but you had it coming. And I know you liked it. Now get up from that filthy floor and lie on the bed."

The glare he received was nothing but deadly, but there was also a playful glint in those expressive eyes. He _knew_ he liked it rough. Heartdid what he had told him and while the feisty raven was rearranging his prone form on the bed Kidd got rid of his red jeans and let his gaze rake over the so deliciously spread out body from the petulant prostitute.

He picked the glass back up that had contained his drink. Now only three ice cubes where swirling around in it.

"Spread your legs a little wider, oh yeah, like this, let me see what you got." Kidd rasped and stood at the foot of the bed, clinking the ice cubes in the glass together, closely watching every movement the raven made, the way his muscles worked beneath his skin, his heavy erection laying on his stomach, his pert ass, the little puckered hole, barely visible for him from this position, oh fuck, the _knowledge_ that there was this incredibly tight hole, probably quivering in anticipation, waiting to be filled - fuck yeah.

"Come closer, _Heart." _

The hooker did what he was told, but always with a hint of defiance in his blazing eyes.

Oh yeah, now _Heart's _shapely bottom was way closer to him and he reached out and stroked _Heart's _ erection. That move clearly surprised the raven, because he did let out a cry, lust mingled with surprise.

He liked how the raven's erection fit in his palm, the smooth skin, the heat, the hardness. The knowledge that Heart was hard for _him_, and him alone. Fuck yeah.

The hooker moaned from his touch, writhed on the bed, bit his lip. Then: "Please-"

"What do ya want?"

"Please, don't fuck me without lube-"

But Kidd only grinned. Now that the first bite was gone from his straining libido, he could play with Heart for a bit. And play he did.

He fished one of the slowly melting ice cubes from his glass and then, without any further warning, pressed it inside Heart's tight opening.

"What the FUCK?" The raven haired man cried out in shock. Oh fuck yeah, he knew he was a kinky bastard. The ice cube was completely sucked inside the tight hot hole, and he could only imagine how it would feel to have an ice cube _there._

He saw small droplets of water come out of the puckered entrance. Oh shit. That was fucking hot. He wanted to know how it felt to have something so cold in a place so hot, so he simply used his ungloved hand that had been previously stroking Heart's cock fingering the skin surrounding the tight ass, spreading some of the water droplets emitting from the hole and then he buried his fingers in the now hot and cold flesh.

Shit, he was tight, really damn tight. And hot. And ice cold. And all his to take. All his to play with.

"What the fuck was that?" Heart panted, clearly reacting to the ice cube inside him – and to his finger toying around with it, feeling the ice melt.

"You like it?"

"Fuck no, it's fucking cold as fuck-"

"It's an ice cube, and stop bitching, or else-"

"Or else? I'm not afraid-"

Oh, that little bitch was taunting him. He was so going to get it. He grinned again and withdrew his finger from the tight opening. The ice cube was already melted completely – Heart was just that fucking hot.

Still grinning he fished the other two ice cubes from his glass and put each in one hand. He started running his hands all over Heart's torso, pressing an ice cube to each nipple, circling them with the slowly melting cubes. He just loved the little goosebumbs he made appear on the tattooed flesh.

Then he traveled the ice cubes lower, leaving watery trails on Heart's skin. Heart had his upper body popped up on a pillow and observed with sparkling eyes where his hands would take the quickly melting cubes next.

Oh yeah, that belly button looked way to inviting. He dropped one cube in the small dent and trailed the remaining one lower till he teased the base of Heart's prominent erection with the frozen water. Heart let out a low moan.

Fuck yeah, how would it feel to get a hand job with an ice cube pressed in between the hand and the cock? Heart was about to find out. Kidd pressed the cube against the soft tip of his cock and fuck yeah, the moan that came out of Heart's mouth, the slight movements of his hips, rocking into his hand, fuck yeah.

He grinned and subconsciously licked his lips. Heart was so fun to play with. Time to speed things up a bit.

He roughly grabbed Heart'serection with his literally ice cold hands and stroked him, shit, his hands were warming up fast. When all the ice was melted in Heart's belly button and only trails of water were left, he let go of the straining erection in his hands.

The man lying on his back, looking up to him, grimaced when he let go of his cock. Oh fuck yeah, the man beneath him knew what he wanted, and him denying Heart what he wanted made everything all the sweeter. He smirked down at the scowling man. Damn, time to bury his cock back in that tight little ass. No shit.

"You know the game, Heart, prep yourself, or it ain't gonna be a smooth ride for ya."

"Fuck off." Heart spat, but there wasn't venom in his voice – actually Kidd thought he heard the playful undertone again. Heart grabbed a condom from the nightstand and flung it in his direction, then he retrieved a small bottle of lube from somewhere, probably his discarded pants.

"Mister Red, you just like to watch me, don't you?"

"_Red_? You call me fucking _Red_?"

"Well, it is a fitting name for you, don't you think?"

"Don't fucking call me names, _Heart._"

"Then what name am I supposed to scream when I'm coming?"

"You're not a screamer."

"Well, what do you know? Maybe you weren't good enough to make me scream the first time you took me-"

"You little shit!" Oh that little fucker was so going to get it. During their little banter Heart had started to coat his fingers and to insert one into that fucking tight little hole of his, shit, sweat broke out only to _imagine_ burying his straining cock in there again, oh shit, the way his finger was moving in and out of there –

Oh, he forgot, he was mad at Heart for insulting his ability to make that little shit scream – he forcefully yanked Heart's hand back from fingering his ass and pinned both hands above the lean man. "You're not a screamer, Heart, but tonight you're gonna come damn fucking close to scream, do you understand me?"

"Well, Mister Red, I ain't screaming yet."

"Never said you would, Heart, never said you would." With those words he lowered his head down and licked the sensitive skin right under Heart's ear. Sweat. Salt. Salt on his skin.

While distracting Heart with his tongue, he grabbed the discarded bottle of lube and poured a generous amount over his fingers. He was slightly excited to feel the tattooed man's inside on his fingers. Fuck yeah. He sucked on Heart's neck and made the man moan like he was already reaching the highest peaks of pleasure. What the fuck? Was Heart faking it? No way some simple licks on his neck could feel that good, no shit – but why did those moans sound so fucking sexy? Could it be that the man beneath was simply not used to rather tender gestures? Ah shit, he didn't have the patience to mull over such things. He only wanted to fuck him. Yeah, he only wanted to bury some parts of his body in this man.

He shifted his grip on Heart's hands so he pinned the man's wrist with his artificial arm and probed with his coated fingers on the puckered entrance. Motherfucking shit, how could that man beneath him emit so much fucking heat? He felt like he was burning his skin, hot, so fucking hot, and it felt so fucking good – nothing was left of the cold trails those ice cubes had left earlier on the tanned skin.

He buried his middle finger knuckle deep into Heart, and shit, that man was even hotter inside. And how the fuck was it even possible that a hooker was so fucking tight?

He quickly added another finger, he was getting impatient, yeah, patience wasn't really one of his strengths – and then another finger, three fingers pumping in and out of that moaning mess of a man beneath him. He still sucked and kissed his neck, though. The taste of his skin was just too addicting. For a short second a nasty thought crossed his mind - _did someone else tonight taste the skin he was tasting right now? Did some other fucker already touch what was his to claim? _Oh no, he was not getting territorial over a damn prostitute.

Don't fucking think.

Yeah, fuck this. Literally.

He withdrew his fingers, put the condom on, coated his rock hard cock with the reaming lube on his hand, let go of Heart's neck – his thoughts made it taste stale – and slammed inside.

Motherfucking shit!

Tight. Tight. Hot. Fucking tight. Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit, he was so fucking tight and hot – shit, shit, shit!

MORE.

He shuddered, he was sweating, oh fuck his leatherjacket, it was sticking to his skin by now, hot, tight, hot – he withdrew his erection, stilled the trembling hips beneath him with a hand and then slammed back inside.

Bliss.

Heaven.

Passion.

Oh, motherfucking shit. This was too good to be real. Fuck yeah.

In and out. Deeper. Hotter.

_Slam_. Skin slapped on skin, they moaned, the panted, they bit, they met in the most primal way men could meet.

Heart's ass was just so deliciously tight. Those tight walls clamped down around his cock, oh the friction, the heat.

He increased the speed he was slamming his cock inside that hole, oh fuck, he couldn't think, he _was_ an animal, all pure instinct, all pure desire, all pure lust. And his instincts were screaming: _More!_ _Deeper!_

He grabbed Heart's ankles, bent his legs back so his knees were almost touching his tattooed chest, and fuck yeah, this position allowed him to pound deeper into that writhing body beneath him, allowed him to use his height and weight to his advantage.

He couldn't _think_. He could only - oh fuck, do that again, Heart, do that again!

Suddenly Heart's body jerked beneath him, in his temporally confusion he let go of Heart's legs, oh shit, and then Heart's legs were wrapped around his lower back, urging him to speed his movements up. Fuck yeah.

He grabbed Heart's hips instead and then they both lost control.

His orgasm hit him like an axe that split his head in two halves. Merciless, painful, and fucking intense.

He didn't know when he came back to his senses. Maybe when the body trapped beneath his huge body was trying to shove him off. Oh yeah, he was probably suffocating whoever did bring him that mindless pleasure. Fuck yeah, Heart, right? Damn, his brain was mushy.

He rolled off the sweaty man and lay heavily panting on his back. Then he turned his head and glimpsed at Heart. He seemed to be trying to fill his lungs with air again. He noticed that he must've come as well, since his cock was flaccid again, and there was a telltale mess of semen on his stomach.

That had been satisfying. And somehow he knew that the hour he had with the prostitute was far from over.

And of course he was right. Only moments later Heart apparently decided that he had enough time to get back down to earth and got rid of the thoroughly used condom still coating his still half hard member. Heart bent over his groin and gave his cock some tentative licks, till he stood back to full attention. Fuck yeah. He didn't need a lot around Heart to keep it up, no shit.

After Heart seemed satisfied with his oral work, he unrolled a new condom over his cock and lowered himself down on his hard cock without any further fussing.

Oh fuck.

He knew he couldn't get enough of Heart. He just couldn't.

He felt like he was high on pleasure. Fucking Heart was better than three 8 balls.

Heart rode him like the sex craved mammals they were, and after they had reached their peaks they did it again and again.

He was slowly coming out from the pleasure induced haze.

He noticed out of the corners of his eyes that Heart was getting dressed again. He flung his pants at him and he got the hint and reluctantly put his pants back on.

"Well, Mister Red, I have to admit that you held your promise." Heart casually mentioned while he put his pants back on.

"What fucking promise?"

"That you would _almost_ make me scream, Mister Red."

"Don't call me that."

"Then what am I supposed to call you? It might be to your liking if I scream out your name the next time you make me come."

He grinned at that statement. Oh yeah. He was so not done with fucking Heart, and apparently he wasn't either.

"Kidd. Eustass Kidd." He grunted, got up from the bed and searched the pockets of his leather jacket for his wallet.

"_Kidd?_ So the queer at the reception wasn't calling you some random names? _Kidd-chan,_ who would've known?"

"Fuck off."

"Oh, I will. But I don't think I'll call you Kidd-chan."

"Well? What's your name? Don't tell me it's _Heart._ I ain't retarded. And it annoys the shit outta me to refer to you as _Heart_ all the time."

"Trafalgar Law, at your service."

"_Law_." He liked how that name sounded rolling off his tongue. "I think I can live with that."

"Oh, I'm thoroughly glad you can, Eustass-ya. Look, I can't be at the 'Arabasta' all the time. I got a life outside this establishment. I think I can manage to be here around ten thirty during the week."

"Ten thirty it is? What about tomorrow?" Damn, he sounded like he needed it badly.

"I won't manage to be here tomorrow night, Monday, it is."

"Monday it is." He repeated.

_Law_ – oh yeah, he liked that name way better than _Heart, _was already unlocking the door and was about to leave, when he caught his arm.

"Wait, you forgot your money." That was a new low in his life. He was reminding a prostitute to collect its money – and didn't you usually pay for advance for those kinds of services? He had no fucking clue.

"Oh." Law said and blushed.

Kidd quickly handed Law five bills from his wallet and Law took them somewhat embarrassed. "Thanks." Then he turned around and left.

Kidd pocketed his wallet and realized that his wifebeater and his leatherjacket were quite dirtied from sweat and other bodily substances. Fuck. That's what you got from fucking with your clothes still on. But he couldn't risk revealing his artificial arm, couldn't he?

He left the 'Arabasta' and walked the short distance back to the Galleya shipyard. It was almost midnight by now, and there was a night shift he was looking forward to.

It was a few hours later, during the shift, when Ace commented on the stage his leather jacket was in, that he realized that he still had Law's cum all over. But he had known in advance that taking a shower _before_ a night shift was never a good idea. Things usually tended to get bloody around him.

* * *

_TBC_

I would appreciate a review! Love, M ;)


	6. Give and Take

Grand Line City _Hearts_

* * *

Chapter Four_  
_

_Give and Take_

Nehmen ohne zu viel zu geben

* * *

After the quite satisfying fuck on Saturday night, Kidd spent his Sunday at the gym in their basement of their apartment building. Since he knew that Law wouldn't be at the 'Arabasta' tonight he needed an outlet for his usual amount of rage built up inside. He could always fuck someone else at the 'Arabasta' as an outlet for his buzzing energy, but he didn't really feel like tainting the two great fucks he had shared with Law.

_Tainting? You fucked a fucking prostitute. What would be more tainting? _

Oh shit, he was getting a hard on just thinking about that prostitute's ass.

After a strenuous workout that day he ate dinner with Lucci, Zoro and the _kids_ – no shit, there was just no other way to describe the other younger Galleya workers. They were just a bunch of immature brats with a knack for violence. And other weird stuff. Yeah.

Zoro went down to the 'Arabasta' again, accompanied by Franky and Khoza, but he didn't really feel like going. No shit, Law wouldn't be there, so what was the point in going?

"Kidd." Lucci's deep baritone pulled him out of his musings. "Wanna go to the 'Ring' tonight?"

Fuck yeah, that was a good idea. And only him and Lucci – that sounded like real fun. "Yeah. I'll be ready in five."

Lucci only nodded and left the room to finish whatever unfinished business he had.

Kidd grinned and went to his room to get ready. Fighting was right next to fucking his favorite past time activity. And the 'Ring' provided the necessary surroundings for his escapades. The old public swimming pool in that shitty suburban area Sabondy was slightly altered and renovated, so that the drained pool was the fighting pit. There were also boxes for the rather wealthier guests who preferred not to mingle with the masses that usually were watching and betting on the fights.

Of course the Galleya workers owned their own box down at the 'Ring'.

It was an unspoken rule that the Galleya workers didn't fight each other down at the 'Ring'. Fights were a daily occurrence on the Galleya grounds itself, but there was no need to take them outside, so that possible enemies might analyze their fighting styles.

He donned his greasy work clothes and went for something more – let's say – _fightable._ He didn't need a shower before he went to the 'Ring'. He knew he would only end up even dirtier. Fuck yeah.

Kidd headed back downstairs and helped himself to a drink before Lucci would join him. The liquor took the edge of his inner rage – but only for a short moment. Luckily Lucci didn't need a lot of time and soon they were on their way to the 'Ring'.

The fight that night had been pretty bloody for him. Maybe he had underestimated his opponent, but fuck him, he got him in the end. And that asshole paid for each drop of his blood he had spilled, for sure. The little asshole had gotten him with his iron clawed gloves right on the right side of his face and down his neck.

His wounds were still bleeding, and they were going to scar for sure – but who the fuck cares, he was alive, and his opponent wouldn't be for much longer. That was all that counted. And the more dangerous his opponent was, the more money he would get out of this. Usually money wasn't a motivation for him to fight, shit, but the last two nights with that fucker Law definitely screamed for seconds.

He wasn't poor, but he wasn't rich, either. So he definitely could use the additional money.

And use it, he did.

Each single night the next week he went out to the 'Arabasta' and met Law around ten thirty at the foot of the stairs at that shitty bar. They went upstairs and fucked the shit outta each other. Every time with Law seemed more intense, their bodies got used to each other, accustomed to every weak spot, to every sensitive spot – and damn, they did use that knowledge for a good purpose.

And there went his plan. Originally he had wanted to fuck Law till he got tired of him. Well, he didn't see that happening so soon. He just couldn't help his obsession with that man.

It was Friday night again, and exactly one week ago he had met Trafalgar motherfucking Law. He was on his back on a shitty bed in a shitty room above the 'Arabasta' with Law and he was fucking exhausted, because they had fucked till they were both raw.

It was Law who finally spoke: "Eustass-ya, I've been thinking-"

"I didn't fuck your brains out yet?"

Law flipped him off, sat up and looked with unusually soft eyes down on him. "Well, against your beliefs I do work at a regular job, and my job and _this_," he made some indefinite hand gesture, "let's call it _arrangement_, are leaving me hardly time to sleep-"

"What are you saying? You wanna stop this? I'm fucking paying you a fortune each time-"

"I wasn't ending this. I only wanted to suggest that we might wanna meet at a different place, since if this _arrangement_ is going on, I'm definitely not willed to catch some disease from these sheets."

"Yeah, this room is shit. You wanna go to a hotel?"

"Well, I was actually thinking about a change of rooms that wouldn't affect my schedule that badly, so I want to suggest that we could meet from now on in my apartment."

He didn't even think before he answered: "Yeah, sounds good to me."

* * *

Law had thought a lot about what he had called so nonchalantly _arrangement_, and wherever his thoughts about it were leading, there was one thing he couldn't deny: the sex was damn satisfying. But on the other side there was still the fact that he was selling his body for money. And when he had told Doflamingo about his new _job_ to earn additional money Doflamingo had been beyond amusement. Law suspected that Doflamingo had felt a slight twinge at the thought that he was selling his body, a good Doflamingo saw as his own, but his utter satisfaction about the fact that Law was going so far to escape from his clutches must've out run his jealous urges by far. He even felt anger boiling up his stomach just at the thought that he had to justify where he had gotten that additional money from to Doflamingo.

But now, after one week of selling his body to Eustass fucking Kidd, he felt the exhaustion, the physical toll his body took. It was a deep physical and psychical exhaustion, his bones were aching, he had a slight headache, and he only wanted to sleep for weeks.

Before he had gone to the 'Arabasta' to sell his body every damn night, he had gotten a good six or seven hours sleep each night, and he had needed them badly, since the double shifts at the hospital were eating him alive. But now, the past week, he had gotten between four and five hours each night. Even his staff at the hospital began to worry about him, since his exhaustion began to show. He had dark circles around his eyes, and he doubted that they would ever go away.

So he needed sleep. A lot of it. Badly. So could stop seeing Kidd at the 'Arabasta' and then in fact loosing the only chance of ever being free of Doflamingo. He seriously doubted that he would find another client that would pay that much money for a fuck – regularly. And in addition to that: Eustass Kidd knew how to fuck. His physical attire wasn't bad either. He couldn't just stop having sex with Kidd. He _needed_ the money.

He had thought about this problem a lot – and letting Kidd fuck him in his own apartment was the only solution he came up with.

First, they wouldn't need to pay the room fee any longer, and well, the rooms were really really shitty. Downright gross. And if they would do it in his apartment he could save the money and the time for the cap ride home.

Usually when he had been done with work, he had had to shower and snatch a ride to the 'Arabasta' – damn that club for lying in the outskirts of Grand Line City. He didn't even own a car. Fuck you, Doflamingo, for taking every damn cent from my pockets. Just fuck you.

Well, the point was that meeting Kidd every damn time at the 'Arabasta' cost him too much time and money. So meeting up in his own little (and he had to confess, quite shitty too) apartment equaled more money and more time. Win-win situation.

There was only one negative thing about meeting Kidd in his own apartment: He hated strangers in his home. And Kidd was definitely a stranger. He knew nothing about that man. Nothing. And he didn't really want to. He was a client. Just a client. Nothing more.

He hated invasions in his personal space. He didn't really feel like inviting a stranger home, a man who most likely earned his money due to some illegal ways. And what if he wanted to break his ties with Kidd? Then the man would know where he lived, he could stalk him, break into his apartment – his past with Doflamingo taught him that all those things did in fact happen.

Yeah, life was pretty damn harsh.

He had weighted the pros and the cons for days, but he finally made his decision. Well, his sleep deprived brain cells made the decision for him.

So on Friday night, after one hour of way to intense sex he had offered Kidd to meet at his apartment from now on. And Kidd had agreed.

Now he was waiting anxiously in his crowded apartment for the red haired beast to show up.

No, scratch that, he wasn't anxious. Why the fuck would he be anxious? Shit. What time was it? Didn't he tell Kidd to show up at his place at ten thirty, their usual time? So why wasn't he here yet?

He took a deep breath. This wasn't like him. He needed his calm attire back – now.

There was a loud knock on the door. _He's here._ Shit. Law looked around one last time – all his medical books were buried beneath the non-medical books, his place was clean and tidy. Nothing left that would give him away that he was a doctor, or worse, tied with Doflamingo.

No, his hands weren't shaking when he finally opened the door. They definitely _weren't_. Inviting Kidd in his home meant _nothing._ Nothing but a danger to tying himself to another criminal next to Doflamingo. Yeah, great situation – while trying to get rid of one underground lord, he got tangled up with the next one. _Great._

As expected, Kidd stood in the doorway, smug grin plastered on his face. "So this is where you're living?" The red haired fucker greeted him. His broad shoulders in his trademark fur coat filled out the door frame nicely.

"Yeah."

"You ain't inviting me in?"

"I didn't see the necessity in that, since we both now that I don't stand a chance against you, if you truly wanted access to my living quarters."

"If you say so. Now move your ass to the bedroom, I don't got the whole night."

He didn't either, he remembered. His alarm clock would ring way to early the next morning, and he should be thankful that he could earn extra money without losing too much sleep.

Kidd sauntered past him and commented on his way: "Damn, this is tiny!"

He was tempted to yell: _What did you expect?_ But he wasn't in the mood for witty word banters. No, he was way too exhausted for that.

"This really is a shitty apartment! Now I see why you'd need some extra money-" Kidd's deep baritone sounded from the bedroom.

"Fuck off." Something about his client made him react to him in the most primal way – verbal and physically. _Gruesome_.

But still, he hurried after Kidd and found the red haired man relaxing on his bed, taking in his surroundings. "Well, it's a lot cleaner in here than in those shitty rooms above the 'Arabasta', but it's no bigger at all."

He was about to reply, but then Kidd beat him to it. "What are you standing there like a statue? Get fucking naked right now."

"Fine." He grumbled and quickly got rid of his clothes. He knew that Kidd sometimes enjoyed a teasing strip tease, but he didn't seem to be in a mood for it tonight. Altogether, Kidd seemed to be in a fairly dangerous mood. Not his usual playful self. He seemed… exhausted. Strained. Just like him. Well, he was about to change that, right?

Damn, it was kinda cold in his apartment, and it didn't help that he just took all his clothes off. He stood naked and shivering at the foot of his own bed, obediently waiting for instructions from his client. Oh, how he hated that he was forced to go that far for money.

But then – what if he would've met Eustass fucking Kidd just by coincidence in a bar, without the pressing urgency of money pushing his luck? What if they would've met on different terms, as equals, both looking for a quick fuck? That would've changed everything. Every fucking thing. He could've grown to like Kidd. They could've fucked without that nagging voice in the back of his head, telling him how _dirty_ he was. How low he was. That he was _selling_ his body, that he was a prostitute.

But who was he kidding.

They weren't equals in this. This was a simple work relationship. He was Kidd's bitch, even if he pretended he wasn't. And he had only agreed to be Kidd's bitch so he won't be Doflamingo's bitch any longer.

"What are you waiting for? Come here and suck me off." Kidd said with his rough brawl and opened the zipper from his ludicrous red pants to dig his cock out.

He swallowed the bile that had collected in his throat and crawled on the bed to Kidd, who was leaning against the headboard, watching him.

He tried to stop his body from shivering and reached for Kidd's pulsing organ. Oh, damn that cock. He did his duty with the overly large rod until Kidd came in his mouth. Then he grabbed the bottle of lube on his nightstand and worked his hole open. _Routine_.

His body had the typical physical reaction to his skilled fingers probing at his still pretty tight hole. His dick got hard at his slick fingers stroking over his prostate in practiced movements and at the prospect that he was soon to be filled by a big and rather skilled dick. Yeah.

When he felt that he was loosened up enough he stroked Kidd's cock back to full hardness and then lowered himself down on it.

Ah, the stretch, the burn, the heat.

He started to ride Kidd, he knew he preferred it this way, the lazy fuck he was let him do all the work. Up and down. Up and down. _Slap_. Skin on skin. Harsh breaths. Panting.

He was such a whore.

He wrapped his own hand around his cock and stroked it in the rhythm he was impaling himself on Kidd's cock.

Up and Down. Stroke. Pants. An occasional moan.

He squeezed his ass a bit, changed the angle, increased the speed, yeah, this was feeling pretty good. Hopefully Kidd would come soon. He was tired.

Suddenly two large hands grabbed his hips and slammed his body down on that fucking hard cock, the body beneath him spasmed, then stilled. Ah. So he finally came. Yeah, he could feel hot sperm leaking from his ass.

He disconnected their bodies and stretched next to Kidd's huge frame. Kidd already had two orgasms. That was good, usually he was satisfied with merely three. So he would take him one more time and then they would be over and done with it. For this night, at least.

He noticed that he didn't came himself. Oh well-

"YOU LITTLE SHIT!" Kidd suddenly raged.

His body got turned around by huge hands and a rather angered Eustass Kidd was in face. He wondered what was wrong.

"You little shit! I don't pay for this fucked up shit!" He yelled. His face was way too close. He could feel Kidd's breath on his face. "What the fuck is wrong with you tonight?"

"You're paying for sex. This is what you're getting." His tone was cold.

"Oh no, you got that wrong."

"So we didn't just fuck? What did I get wrong, you-"

"I do pay you for sex, sex with you! _You_ specifically. Not some lifeless doll. If I wanted to fuck just _someone_ why am I here? This is fucking ridiculous. I could fuck for free, you know that? I could just pick random men up at the 'Arabasta' and fuck them, for free! And guess why I am here, paying you fucking ridiculous amounts of money for something I could have for free?"

"Yeah, so why aren't you at the 'Arabasta' right now, picking easy fucks up?"

"Well, that's the fucking point! I don't _want_ those fuckers – they don't fucking _match_ me – and the thing you just pulled there… What the fuck, Law? Is it too much to ask for that you look me in the eye when we fuck? That you scream out my name, like you did the nights before? At least be _present _when you fuck me!"

"So you want me to scream your name, Eustass-ya? Is it that what you want?"

Kidd just looked at him, still infuriated.

"I'm not your fucking bitch! Only because you pay me-" Oh, he was mad now, really mad. That retarded fucker-

Suddenly Kidd laughed short and bitter, and then that fucking heavy man was atop of him, pressing his still slightly sweaty body in the mattress, forcing his legs apart, and biting his earlobe.

Oh fuck, he just didn't do that, shit, don't lick there, don't-

"You little shit, you don't get it, don't you?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Get off me! GET OFF ME!" Air, he needed air. He was suffocating, and the heavy fur coat Eustass was wearing wasn't helping, it was adding to the weight, to the uncomfortable warmth, shit, why did that coat remind him of the retarded feather boa Doflamingo liked to wear? And Kidd and Doflamingo had that in common: They would never take it off, the fur coat or the feather boa. Shit, he needed air, air-

Kidd was yelling something, obscenities, but he didn't hear them, no, he was happy that he finally could breathe again, air, oh so sweet air rushed back in his lungs-

Kidd roughly turned his naked and already used body around, his face was pressed in the mattress, he felt one calloused and one gloved hand caressing his behind, and then, he was almost prepared for it, but only almost: _SLAP_.

Kidd had just slapped his ass. And damn that fucker, it hurt. And that reminded him even more of what Doflamingo would do to him.

But that wasn't that pink feather boa wearing fucker, right? This one was different, he tried to tell himself, this one didn't hold the power over him like Doflamingo did, oh no, not this one. He was only using Kidd for money, and Kidd was using him for sex. Give and Take.

Maybe they weren't equals when it came down to the actual act of fucking, or the general nature of their physical relationship, but from a pure economical perspective they were equals: He owned a good Kidd wanted to purchase. He could live with that as a base for equality.

_SLAP_. Oh, that motherfucker.

And then there were warm fingers at his entrance, smearing more lube over it, a gloved hand that squeezed his cock, ah, that hurt, one more slap, shit, the rough treatment was really getting to him, no shit.

Kidd's huge cock pressing against his entrance. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Kidd grabbed his hips in a steely grip, he braced himself, tried to find some sort of leverage, but his bed didn't provide a lot where he could hold onto, and then – SHIT! Kidd slammed inside, without consideration, without mercy, his overly large cock filling him to the brim, leaving him powerless and at his will.

Kidd stilled for a few scary seconds, stretching him to his limit, dominating him. Then he withdrew and slammed right back inside.

Oh shit.

That was rough. Painful. Crazy.

Another thrust.

Shit, he was losing it, shit, shit, shit.

This was fucking intense, too intense, too much, too much, too much. Kidd's muscular body was powering over his, he had no chance, he couldn't see, haze, oh shit, he could only hear: Skin slapping on skin, moans, screams, shit, that were his own moans and screams, right? He could only feel: Heat, so much fucking heat, the burn, the stretch, the fire in his veins, lust, so much fucking desire and lust coiled in his groin, he felt like he was going to explode, this was scary, fuck, fuck – MORE!

His fingers were desperately clutching the pillows, the blanket, the sheets –

"You like it like this, you little whore, don't you?"

He wanted to tell Kidd to shut the fuck up, he wanted to hit him for that comment, he wanted to say something smart and use his wits to reply to that fucking insulting comment, but he fucking couldn't, his mouth wouldn't work properly anymore, fuck this, his _mind_ didn't work properly anymore. He only resolved to one thing: He wouldn't scream Kidd's name. No fucking way. He wouldn't.

But then thinking was overrated, right?

His thoughts became hazy, blurry, undefined.

The fucking heat.

Sweat was running down his body, shit, Kidd just placed a hand on his rock hard cock again, one stroke, another stroke, shit, shit, shit-

"Moan for me, mah little bitch, scream for me, tell me how much you like mah cock, tell me how much you love being filled by mah cock, you little slut, scream for me-"

That fucker! He tried to form words, but shit, would that fucker stop hitting his prostate with his fucking huge cock? He couldn't think! Too much pleasure, that cock filling him again and again, driving into him with too much force, showing him his place in the world: _Beneath this man. _

"Fuck you!"

And after that verbal outfall all he could do was moan.

Kidd laughed at his defiance and increased his efforts to fuck him through the mattress. _Thrust. _Kidd's huge cock impaling him again and all over again.

He couldn't take it any longer, he needed to come.

He tried to reach his cock with his hand, but his hand was swatted away – FUCK! That fucker, he couldn't, shit, he didn't, what the fuck? He _needed_ to come, stop this, take your fucking hand away, release my cock, let me come, let me come, fuck, fuck, fuck-

He wouldn't beg, he wouldn't beg, he _never_ begged.

"Scream mah name, little bitch, if you want to come."

"Fuck you!"

Haze. Pleasure. Pain. He couldn't take it possibly any second longer. _I shall not beg. I shall not say his name. _

"Scream mah name, bitch!"

Oh, fuck off. _And let me come!_

This was too much, way too much. Over the edge and over again.

But then Kidd started to moan too, his thrusts became frantic, and that was his only consolidation: That he knew that Kidd was close too, and then he would let him come too, for sure.

Haze. Heat. So much fucking pleasure.

And then with one especially powerful thrust Kidd released his tight grip around the base of his cock and he could finally come – oh shit, sweet heaven, sweet bliss, sweet waves over pleasure never deceasing, blank minds filled with fireworks, screams, shouts, heaven.

.

.

He came back to his senses when Kidd's heavy body was lifted from his lithe frame.

Yeah, time to breathe again. He didn't really feel like moving though. Luckily he was already in his own bed, so he really didn't need to move at all.

He heard the rustling of clothes, he lazily turned his head and watched Kidd leave his bedroom from the corner of his eyes. He waited for a few seconds, if he would hear running water in his bathroom, but instead he heard the soft _click_ of his front door closing.

_Oh_. So that was it.

He forced his limp legs to leave the bed and he reeled like a drunk person when he staggered through his small flat. When he entered the tiny living room with the tiny kitchen corner he stared like a dumb retard at the closed door to his apartment.

That was when he noticed that Kidd never gave him the money. That fucker! He was about to curse that asshole to hell when his attention got caught by five green bills on his kitchen table. They looked like someone just threw them there. Kidd probably did.

So he still paid him in the end. Even when he clearly hadn't been satisfied with him.

He wondered if Kidd would come back the next night.

Probably not.

* * *

_A/N_: This ain't the end, kids! There's a lot more to happen here! I was just so fucking busy lately... But the updates won't take so long next time, and I know, _Claws_ is in need of an update too - well, I'm working on it! Drop a review, they motivate me for sure to ignore my college reading and go for this story instead ;)


	7. Little Lies

Grand Line City _Hearts_

* * *

Chapter Five

_Little Lies_

Lügen und Verrat

* * *

After Kidd had left Law's shitty apartment that night he went straight home, into the shower. God fucking damn it. He groaned and felt the urge to plant his fist in his face. He stared at the white tiled walls in his shower while he let cascades of water run down his body. Let the water wash everything away. The things he should've said…

_I want you free, I want you rebellious, I want you how you truly are._

Why had Law been so damn different that time?

Oh fuck this, he didn't wanna think about it.

Cascades of water running down his body. For the first time in years he _didn't_ feel the urge to jerk off in the shower. He just didn't feel like it. Not tonight – and besides, he already had three orgasms with Law. And Law had had exactly _one_ orgasm. Yeah. Didn't he _not_ want to think about Law? Shit.

Angrily he got out of the shower, put some clothes on and stormed downstairs, straight to the bar. Since it was still Saturday night, there wasn't a lot going on at the Galleya headquarters. Most of the men were working with Shanks – that meant they would be out most of the night, dealing, disrupting other deals, blowing shit up. They would return in the early morning hours. It was about midnight right now. Damn, he was irritated and bored. No one around to distract him.

He had decided to work the night shift tomorrow night, since he remembered rather well that Law didn't wanna be fucked on Sundays. That fucking hypocrite.

He poured a rather large drink at the bar and enjoyed the harsh taste of undiluted liquor. That was what he needed right now.

I want you free.

_Why won't he understand?_

* * *

Law groaned. This Sunday was fucking slow. Nothing fucking happened that day at the hospital. Nothing at all. Why couldn't some car crash so he had something to do? Why did no one get a stroke or a heart attack? Why was everyone so fucking healthy? He wanted to cut something open, he wanted to hold a heart in his hands, he wanted blood, a living body beneath his knife on the table. But this peculiar Sunday at the hospital he was working at was so fucking slow. Nothing fucking happened – he was so bored, even his thoughts were running in circles, repeating itself.

And the worst part about this slow Sunday: His mind wasn't occupied enough with some potential patients, no, he had nothing to distract him, and so his thoughts automatically went back to last night. To Eustass fucking Kidd and his fucking demands.

To Kidd's rage.

To the disdain. To the resentment.

Oh, for fuck's sake, can someone in Grand Line City _please_ get shot, so he had something to do? An accident? A rough fight? Anything?

By the time his shift was over he was about ready to shoot himself. He walked home the one mile from the hospital to his apartment and suddenly the question he had managed to avoid all day popped right back up in his head: _Would Kidd come back tonight?_

There were three options: Either Kidd would come by and fuck him like nothing had happened, no weirdness between them, no awkwardness, everything forgotten – or even better, all had been just in his overly stressed imagination – or he _wouldn't_ come back. Because Kidd could fuck for free, he said so. Because what Law gave him last night wasn't what Kidd wanted, because he could get _that_ in a dark corner at the 'Arabasta' with some nasty intoxicated chick or dude.

And then there was the third possibility: Kidd would come back _tomorrow_, since he mentioned to Kidd one week ago that he didn't fuck on Sundays. (Well, technically he could fuck on Sundays, but his Sundays were sacred to work (but only a ten hour shift, not _sixteen_) and to going to bed early.)

He arrived at his shitty apartment and quickly took a shower, since he smelled like antiseptics. And if Kidd would come he didn't need him asking why he smelled like hospital. Oh no, he wouldn't tell that git that he was actually a doctor. A renowned heart surgeon, as it was.

And then he waited.

And wait he did.

He watched the clock tick forward, each second passed agonizingly slow. He tried to pass some time cleaning the small space he called his apartment, then he read in one of the latest medical journals. It was around ten thirty when his phone rang.

Hastily he scrambled to answer it, but to his disappointment it was only Nami calling. He mentally scolded himself. Where the fuck would've Kidd gotten his number? He didn't recall that they exchanged numbers. So why was he still feeling a pang that this wasn't Kidd calling him?

Hesitantly he answered the phone. He kinda had the feeling that he wouldn't like what Nami had to say.

"Law speaking."

"Law, sweetheart, where are you?" Nami's exaggerated sweet voice echoed through the receiver. Oh no, what was she up to?

"I'm in my apartment. What's up?"

"Not much, honey, but WHY THE FUCK HAVEN'T YOU CALLED?" Nami screeched.

"Why should I?" He was fairly unimpressed with Nami's outburst. That wasn't the first time he got yelled at over the phone.

"Well, since you didn't say goodbye the other time at the 'Arabasta', then I haven't heard from you all week long, and this Friday you weren't at the 'Baratie' – what is going on with you?" Nami's tone was rather menacing.

"You know that I'm quite busy, Nami. I need to work a lot, I shouldn't tell you this, since you should be aware of this."

"I know that you have to work, you imbecile, but you don't have to work _that much!"_

He decided going for the truth – well, almost the truth. "I kinda met someone."

"_What? _Who? Where?"

"That night at the 'Arabasta' – he was the reason why I didn't say goodbye. I was spending almost every night last week with him." Not a lie.

"Oh Law, that's great! How is he like? Do you like him?"

"He's big, and really hot-" Still not a lie. "And of course I like him, otherwise I wouldn't have spent that much time with him lately." Obviously a lie. If he would ever _like_ Eustass fucking Kidd.

"So he's from Grand Line City? What's his name? What does he do for a living? Are you serious with him?"

Shit. Now he would definitely need to lie – since he hardly knew the answers to Nami's questions. That called for a distraction strategy: "Nami, I gotta let you go, since he just knocked at my door, we have a date, bye bye!" And he hung up.

Silence.

He was such a liar. Nobody had knocked at his door, of course. But lying to Nami wasn't really an option here. She was not to be underestimated, and the last thing he wanted was his circle of friends finding out that he was selling his body to such an unrefined brute as Eustass fucking Kidd – someone whose occupation was probably right in the same range as Doflamingo's.

Kidd. Where was that fucker? It was past ten thirty by now, and usually Kidd was the punctual type. He was losing hope with each passing minute.

Well, more time for him to sleep some of his exhaustion off. Fuck you, Eustass.

* * *

Law's Monday was fucking crazy at the hospital. There had been a huge car accident with several cars involved, and one man's heart got pierced with a piece of scrap metal, exciting! And so he spent most of his shift, operating that man's heart, and god damn it, he was _made_ for this job – he did the impossible and saved that man's life, he truly was a god.

He came home, still in a pretty good mood that he had performed that impossible surgery, and went straight in the shower. Every damn muscle in his body was aching. His neck was stiff, and his fingers were cramping. He let the hot water run over his body, enjoying the heat, the steam, ahh, it felt good, he could fall asleep right where he stood-

A loud knock at the door interrupted his train of thoughts. A fucking _knock_ on the door. That could only mean one thing:

Eustass. Fucking. Kidd.

Who else would it be? A nasty voice in the back of his head informed him that it was about one hour too early for Kidd to turn up, and that he would be pretty crushed if there was only one of his neighbors wanting something. But still, adrenalin rushed through his blood, he hastily turned the shower off, slung a towel around his hips and went for the door.

His heart skipped a beat when he opened the door and there _he _was, Eustass Kidd, red untamed hair, fur coat, freshly healed gashes down the right side of his face, goggles on his head, pale skin and thin unnatural red lips distorted to a sly grin.

"Miss me, Law?"

"Fuck off."

As expected Kidd only grinned at his comment and strode past him. He behaved like he owned the place, but didn't he always behave like that? At the 'Arabasta' Kidd had shown similar behavior, the typical confidence that nothing could shock him, that he was feeling perfectly at ease with everything – Law suppressed the urge to sigh and closed the door behind his brazen guest. _Guest._ That wasn't what Kidd was, right? He should say _customer._

Kidd was already in the bedroom, getting comfortable on his bed.

Hesitantly he joined him in the small but clean space he dared to call 'bedroom'. Kidd was lounging on his bed, still completely clothed. But that wasn't a surprise, since he was used to Kidd fucking him with his shirt and coat still in place. Must be a weird kink of him, or he was concealing some pretty nasty scars, but the gashes on his face and on his neck weren't really affecting Kidd – and he just didn't seem like the type who would be ashamed of some scars – _so the kink it was._

"You changed your attitude, or what?" Kidd growled and raked his gaze over his mostly naked body (he was still only wearing that thin towel around his waist, and some water drops were still running down his body, it was tickling him in an annoying way) and he was satisfied that he could clearly see Kidd's desire and lust for him.

"I guess I did."

"Good. Come here and do what you're best at." Kidd growled.

He was best at cutting men's hearts open, he thought. But Kidd didn't need to know that, right? With slow movements he slowly traveled his hands down his tattooed torso right to the fringe of his towel, he knew that Kidd was watching his fingers intensely – but then, instead of dropping the towel wrapped around his waist he carefully dipped his hand underneath the towel and fisted his slowly growing erection.

Kidd practically drooled. "I wanna see you. Take that fucking towel off."

"No."

"YES!"

He just loved how riled up Kidd could get if he didn't get what he wanted. He half-expected Kidd to start a full out tirade how he was paying him to be naked – oh, here it went.

"You little shit! Take that towel off right now!"

He totally ignored that request and continued jerking his own cock off – hidden from Kidd's burning gaze.

Kidd was about to rise from the bed and snatch his towel away from him when he said: "I'll take this towel off – if you take that nasty coat off."

Kidd froze on the bed and his intense gaze searched for his eyes. The playfulness had vanished from his harsh features. "Why do you want me to take my coat of?"

He blushed a little, but he decided going for the truth. "I would like to feel your naked torso on mine, the warm flesh of your arms wrapping around me while I ride your cock."

"That's it? That's all you want?"

_What more would I want?_

He nodded.

"You wanna know what I hide beneath this coat?"

"Yeah." He was breathless by now, totally forgot about his straining erection. He wanted Kidd fucking naked. Was that too much to ask for?

"You're not afraid of what I might hide? Horrendous scars? A maimed appendage?"

Maimed? Then where the fuck took Kidd his quite impressive strength from?

"Do I look like someone who is afraid of scars?"

Kidd chuckled. "No, you don't. Come here." Kidd patted the pillow beside him and motioned that he should join him.

He let go of that stupid towel and climbed onto the bed and sat cross legged in front of the red haired beast, whose eyes were still following every small movement of his, silently observing him. They just sat like this for a few moments, and Law felt that it was all Kidd's turn now.

"Can I trust you?" Kidd finally asked.

"I let you fuck me because you pay good money."

"You desperately need my money, right? This is why you do this. You won't fool me. But let me say this once: If you betray my trust, you won't get a single cent outta me, you understand? If you betray me, this is over. So I ask you again: _Can I trust you?"_

He took a deep breath and begged that his voice wouldn't sound shaky: "Yes."

Kidd seemed to believe him, because he slowly started to shrug out of his jacket.

What. The. Fuck.

Metal, wires – _what the fuck was this? _

Instead of a perfectly normal left arm Eustass Kidd looked like the fucking Terminator himself, his left arm was one complicated looking construct from scraped of metal, wires, screws, bolts and threads.

"What… what is this?"

"My arm, you dumb shit."

"I mean… what? How? Why?"

Kidd flexed the impressive appendage before his eyes. "I can move it just like any normal arm, it got the same joints as a normal arm, but it is way stronger than an average arm, I can easily lift five hundred pounds with my left arm alone, it's bulletproof, you know, pretty usefully, you know?"

"Do you… can you feel with it?"

"No. Only in my fingertips."

"That's amazing, I've never seen an appendage as such, I mean, where did you get it? What happened?"

"You don't wanna know, and I ain't telling ya. But let me tell you this: There's a fucking good reason why I keep this arm secret. Only my… family knows about it."

"Was there a medical reason why you needed it? What was the surgery like? How much did it cost? Where did you get it? Who was the doctor in charge? When did you get your arm?" He wanted to know everything. He had never seen something like that.

"Law, listen, what's up with all that interest in my arm? It's like a prosthesis, and believe me, if I had the choice between this arm and my old one, I would've chosen the old one. And-"

"But when? Where? I think-"

"CAN WE DROP THIS FUCKING TOPIC?"

"Fine." He grumbled. But his interest was spiked. Who would've thought that Kidd would hide such a wonderful secret beneath his fur coat?

"And one last thing: Nobody will find out about this arm, do you understand?" Kidd had never been more serious.

He nodded.

"I said: _Do you understand?"_

"Yes."

"Good. Come here, help me take off the rest of my clothes, I fucking hated fucking you with that coat, you have no idea how fucking hot it can get beneath that piece of shit."

Law swallowed the tons of questions that were about to spill from his tongue and scooted closer to Kidd. He placed his hands carefully on Kidd's torso, and then slid his hands beneath the white wife beater Kidd was wearing. He shuddered. Kidd's torso was fucking amazing. Pure white skin, smooth like marble, no traces of hair, hard muscles flexing beneath his fingers. Slowly, oh so slowly he lifted the wife beater up and over Kidd's head. Shit. How can someone look _that_ good? That was simply unfair.

But he couldn't stop running his fingers all over that body. He simply couldn't stop. Then he got more audacious and slowly trailed his fingers over the junction between Kidd's shoulder and the mechanic arm. The smooth transition between warm skin and cold metal. If he wasn't mistaken small tremors rocked Kidd's body.

He let his fingers trail over the mechanical arm, he felt the cold metal, the hidden strength in those wires and bolts and screws.

Suddenly a warm arm circled his waist and drew him even closer, closer to that magnificent heat that Kidd's torso was emitting. And finally both their bodies were closely pressed together, muscle on muscle, heat on heat. And it felt fucking fantastic. Kidd's skin on his, his erection pressing uncomfortably against Kidd's lower stomach, shit, the heat, why was Kidd so fucking hot?

"God damn it, I wanted to do this from the very beginning." Kidd rasped in his ear.

He could only moan. He felt Kidd's huge erection growing, and to add to the game he ground his hips down on it. Kidd moaned. And then there was suddenly a huge, metallic and fucking cold hand wrapped around his cock.

Shocked he looked down and saw that Kidd had his mechanical hand wrapped around his cock. He had never seen something more strange, intimidating and at the same time erotic display. And then Kidd's mechanic hand started to move.

Fucking shit.

Kidd knew exactly how much pressure he had to apply, shit, it was slow, torturous and so fucking good. Kidd's other hand pressed his body still close to his, and what was it what he felt? A warm body pressed against his, one arm around his cock, the other around his back – it was weird, he actually felt _safe_, yeah, that was it what he was feeling - something he hadn't felt in years. Not since that fucker Doflamingo had stepped in his life. Usually he would feel claustrophobic in such a tight embrace, but not this time, he only felt warm, safe, and protected.

He looked up into Kidd's face and he couldn't place that look, those intense eyes searching his face for _something – what are you looking for, Eustass-ya?_

And to his displeasure Kidd removed his hand from his cock and suddenly buried the metallic fingers in his short hair and pulled his face closer.

Shit. He was panicking right now.

This wasn't supposed to happen. No.

But he couldn't resist. Kidd's steady grip on his head. Those way too intense eyes staring him down. The grim set of his jar.

And then warm lips were on his, kissing him, _kissing him! _

Shit, that was good, way too good. You weren't supposed to kiss like _that._ The heat. The fire. Shit. He couldn't take this. This was too close, too personal. He was a god damn hooker, for god's sake! This wasn't supposed to happen. No kisses. Never kiss. Too close. Too intimate. Too much.

He tried to break free, he struggled in Kidd's steely grip, but those arms wouldn't bulge, he couldn't get free – two large hands grabbed his head, held him in place, forced his mouth upon his.

So warm, so close, so good.

He couldn't possibly resist any longer, he opened his mouth in a sigh of surrender, and then there was Kidd, everywhere, and it was fucking fantastic.

That man could kiss.

And damn, he could. He was so fucking dominating, demanding everything there was from Law. Fucking everything. And he wouldn't stop. Kidd just pressed their bodies as close together as possible, and then their mouths were slashed upon each other, breathing stopped, their hearts stopped, everything stopped. It was only Kidd and him, lost in time, lost in that kiss.

So fucking good.

And then the kiss ended and he could breathe again, but that wasn't what he wanted, he wanted Kidd to kiss him again, to never stop. He stared at Kidd's reddened lips.

He wanted more.

If he really wanted something, he fucking took what he wanted. He grinned, held eye contact with Kidd, licked his lips and kissed Kidd again. He was the dominating part this time, he was the one who wanted Kidd – and the red haired beast let him have what he desired.

Power.

Safety.

_Equality_.

* * *

Kidd couldn't really believe that _that_ was happening to him. Law in his lap, naked, willing, and _kissing_ him.

Every single encounter over the past week he had been careful that he wouldn't even come close to Law's lips, he had avoided them like a red flag, since kissing usually meant a _real_ connection, kissing meant for him that whatever there was between him and another had a deeper meaning. Needless to say, he hadn't kissed someone in ages.

He simply didn't _kiss._ Kissing was for pussies. He fucked. It was simple as that.

But fuck this shit. Law had looked just so damn kissable when he sat there in his lap, not even slightly disturbed by his mechanical arm, quite the opposite – Law had been intrigued with his arm, curious, and even aroused, judging the reaction of Law's cock in his metallic hand.

Law just made him mad. He didn't know what was it about that man, he knew nothing about him, only that he was driving him crazy with lust, want, need.

And Law was so fucking warm. Warm. Warm lips on his.

But then a greater need took over than simply claiming Law's lips, as so often, the urge to fuck Law into the mattress, the urge to be inside him, to own him.

He knew that he was a creature driven by instincts, so there was no way he could deny the cravings of his beast – and so he unleashed it.

He never let go of Law's lips when he toppled him over, pinned his lithe body to the mattress, touching his body, kissing him, dominating his mouth, dominating his body, feeling, touching. It was amazing that he was naked with Law for the first time, that their chests were pressed together, that Law's hands were on his chest, his shoulders, his arms, touching, feeling.

He spread Law's legs, he wanted to be inside, he needed – _condom_. Shit, he needed a condom. Reluctantly he let go of Law and sat up, looking down at the wonderful disheveled body, Law was panting beneath him, looking up at with huge dark eyes.

"Why did you stop?" Law asked, voice raspy.

"Condom." Was his monosyllabic reply.

"Nightstand."

He found a couple of condoms lying on the nightstand, as Law had pointed out, and for a short second he wondered if Law placed them there for their use only, or if he had other customers who came over and fucked Law in this bed. Suddenly jealously ran through his veins like fire. He grabbed a condom and looked down at Law.

"Am I the only one?" he asked.

"What?"

"Am I the only one you fuck?" he repeated his question. He knew that he sounded suddenly cold, really cold.

Law seemed to sense the sudden shift in his mood and stilled on the bed. Law slowly sat up and looked at him. "I owe a debt, a huge dept. It's something from my past I would rather not think about, but the money I earn with my real job isn't enough. Desperate times take desperate measures. I wasn't sure if I could do it, but then I saw you. You're the first. I do this because I want you. The money is only a necessity for me to survive."

Kidd closed his eyes. That had been _exactly_ what he wanted to hear. That Law had a very good reason to sell his body. That he wasn't doing it for the fun of it, for god's sake. That he wasn't the slut he had thought he was. And – most important – he was the only one Law fucked, not at all like his long dead mother, that fucking bitch. Yeah, hadn't he always laughed when someone told him he was such a _son of a bitch_? Because that was what he truly was.

All the little nagging voices in the back of his head shut up, all the doubts that had been eating him up from the inside. He was free from them.

He felt like laughing.

But then his gaze got caught from Law's deliciously naked body beneath him, his hard cock, and everything was forgotten. He had wasted way too much time with talking and fussing about shit. He quickly got rid of his pants, then he leaned down and kissed Law again, while he searched with his arm blindly the nightstand for lube. He finally found the bottle, uncapped it, still kissing Law, coated his fingers, and then, without a warning, shoved two fingers down Law's ass.

He was so damn hot inside. So fucking hot. And Law was still fucking tight, still clamping down on his fingers like he wanted to milk them, oh, he couldn't wait to feel those walls around his cock – he pumped those fingers in and out of Law, he quickly found that magic spot – Law bucked on the bed, mumbled incoherent words – fuck yeah.

_That's how I want you: Unrestrained, unbound, unleashed._

But then he had a brilliant idea. He removed his slick fingers from Law's hole and stroked his cock instead. Law moaned, demanded that he would finally fuck him, oh, that willing bitch. But he wasn't done playing yet. Oh no.

He kept his hand around Law's already dripping cock, massaging it, pumping it, stroking it – and with his other hand he searched for his discarded wife beater, oh, there it was – and tore it with his mechanical hand in shreds. He took one shred and bound it tightly around the base of Law's cock.

"What the FUCK?" Law yelled, breathless, furious.

He smirked. "I'm still paying you, so my rules apply."

"You fucker!"

He ignored the yelling and thrashing Law, put the condom on and used some more lube to slick his safely coated cock. Then he gave Law's cock some more strokes, Law whined, but he knew that Law wouldn't be able to come until he removed the fabric from his cock. He loved having Law at his mercy.

He placed his hands on Law's hips, his eyes never left his, and then he entered that willing body.

Oh sweet heaven.

Thoughts left him, he was reduced to feelings. Feelings like: hot, hot, shit, tight, tight, so fucking tight – more!

He was pretty sure that Law was yelling something, that intriguing face was flushed, features contorted in something that could only be described as raw lust. And damn, he was going to satisfy that need.

And Law was so fucking hot.

He slowly withdrew, shit, the friction, so fucking hot – it was as Law's ass wouldn't let go of his cock – and then slammed back inside.

HEAVEN.

Why was this so good?

But it was hardly enough. More. He needed more.

He withdrew again, a moan escaped his lips, and rammed his cock inside again. Motherfucking shit. Fucking Law could never get old, never boring, oh no. He knew that he bruised Law's hips, that he was rough, that Law was close to collapsing – but he still needed more. His thrusts became more erratic, with more force, shit, shit, shit, tight, hot-

Law was thrashing beneath him, he was yelling, screaming: "Take it off, let me come! Take it off, take it off-"

But he didn't care, he was too far gone, he was lost in that beautiful body, that tight hole that was wringing him dry, he couldn't stop. He had hardly enough. _More, give me more._

To agitate Law further he stroked that rock hard cock again, never slowed down, in and out, more, harder, more, faster, fuck, so fucking good, more, faster, harder-

His stomach tightened, he knew he was close, he was always close when he fucked Law, but he needed this to last.

Oh fuck!

So fucking tight!

Law was yelling something, whining, shouting – suddenly he sat up and smashed their lips together, he straddled him, riding his cock, breathing the same air, lips on lips, SHIT! That little fucker had just bitten him, oh he was so getting it back!

He threw Law back down on the mattress, towering over him, and fucking the living shit outta him. Law tried to hold on to him, his fingers dug in his back, he felt _everything-_

The haze lifted for a second and in this one clear moment he ripped the restraints from Law's cock – Law screamed, bucked his hips and came – walls tightening on his cock, sucking him in even deeper – and he still needed more.

Law's body went limp beneath him, and he lifted those motionless hips, changed the angle and fucked Law even harder. He just couldn't stop.

Harder.

Deeper.

Fuck yes!

Law was looking up at him with unbelieving eyes, oh shit, those eyes. And then he felt his own orgasm coming like a wave that rushed through his body.

He forced his muscles to thrust one last time into Law, then that wave crashed.

"FUCK!"

He threw his head back, his body went rigid, his muscles spasmed, and his world exploded.

.

.

He needed some time to come back down. Motherfucking shit, that had been one hell of an orgasm. He slowly withdrew his spent cock from Law's hole, discarded the used condom, and collapsed on the mattress next to Law's still limp body.

He felt…_spent_. Weird. Usually he needed at least three orgasms to invoke that feeling.

He felt Law move besides him, and then there were soft lips on his, and he turned his head and kissed back, slow, tired, satisfied.

When Law's lips stilled on his he stretched his well used body and got up from the bed.

"You're leaving?" Law asked, sounding pretty exhausted. _Did Law want him to stay?_

"Yeah, got work to do."

Law nodded, and he searched for his clothes. His wife beater was done for, so he shrugged his fur coat on without anything to wear beneath.

"See ya tomorrow." He said before he went into Law's tiny kitchen. He fished some bills from his pocket and left them on the table, as usual. Then he left – since there were a couple deals going down this night, and it would be such a shame if he wouldn't be there to fuck those fuckers over.

* * *

Law couldn't even bring himself to switch off the light when Kidd left. He was so fucking tired. _Tired._ Damn, this time Kidd had really worn him out. He was happy that he was already in his own bed and that he didn't need to fetch a cap for his ride home. He didn't even need to move, he could just close his eyes and sleep, he didn't mind that the sheets were a mess, that he was sticky and covered in what was the product of both their fucking.

Close your eyes and sleep – _RING!_

Oh, fuck that shit, his phone was ringing. Who would call him at that hour? It was around eleven thirty at night, no one in his right mind would call him… No one in his right mind – oh no, he fucking _knew_ who was calling him at this hour. And ignoring the phone wasn't an option either.

With his muscles protesting he rose from the bed and searched for his phone. Where was that motherfucking piece of shit? Kitchen. Shit. He really needed to walk those few feet to his kitchen.

But if he wouldn't take that call, _he_ would be pissed, and _him_ being pissed usually ended in _him_ coming over. And that was the last thing Law wanted right now.

He finally reached the phone, _unknown number,_ and answered. "Yeah?"

"Oh, hello my dear Law, I hope I wasn't disturbing you." A sickingly sweet voice sounded through the receiver.

"Fuck you."

"Eloquent as ever, Law."

God, how much he hated Doflamingo. "What do you want?"

"So it's always me wanting something? I could've called just because I missed you."

"If you say so. So what do you want?"

"Well, you already notified me in which delicious way you're getting your _extra_ income, and from the goodness of my heart I didn't have objections, but you never filled me in with the details."

"You want details? In which positions we fuck, or what do you mean?"

"Don't be so cold, Law, you know what I mean. I was simply referring to the man you're doing it with. I was quite surprised when my sources told me that you managed to conjure Eustass Kidd in your bed. "

"Why does it matter _who_ I fuck?"

"Well, Law, I always thought that you detested the underground and everything linked to it-"

"You got something wrong there: I detest _you_ and thus everything linked to _you._"

"Well, there's hardly a difference, isn't it? You should know better than everyone that I _am_ the underground in Grand Line City."

"So Kidd's one of your underlings?"

"Well, that's the point here, Law. You were always a smart boy."

"So what's the problem?"

"The problem is that Kidd _isn't_ one of my underlings, as you put it so eloquently. He is part of the most dangerous underground organization out there, next to mine, of course."

Law couldn't really say that he was surprised. He had suspected that from the very beginning. Men like Kidd didn't work nine to five jobs like everybody else. Men like Kidd – wait, there was simply no one else like Kidd. That brute strength, his confidence, the brutish looks, his arm, for fuck's sake-

"Since you are fucking Eustass Kidd on a regular basis-" Doflamingo continued on the other end of the line. "You are a perfect way to infiltrate that organization."

"Why would I wanna do this?"

"Oh Law, don't play dumb. I'm pretty sure that red haired girlfriend of yours has already calculated your chances of paying your dept of in time. So you should know, that even with that little extra income of yours, you won't make it. But you know me, my generous self, I am willing to abate parts of your dept. Let's say five hundred for each piece of useful information?"

"Two thousand."

"You gotta be kidding me, Law, you should be thankful that I am providing you with this offer in the very beginning-"

"One thousand five hundred."

"I like the way you think, Law. Thousand bucks."

"Thousand bucks for each single information."

"Thousand bucks for each single _useful_ information. Are we clear?"

"Yes."

"Great! It's always fun negotiating with you! I expect a call from you in the next days, you can reach one of my underlings with the number you still got."

"Ok."

"Oh, and Law, about that Kidd, let me tell you: He won't be as good as I was to you, remember that."

Then the line was disconnected.

* * *

A/N: Hey, this update was way faster than the last! I know I'm awesome ;)


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